


Hallelujah

by PyriteDark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Sexual Themes, wounds after torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 68,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyriteDark/pseuds/PyriteDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a terrible incident, Castiel cuts himself off from his past life and makes a new one for himself in a New England city. There he meets Sam, a talented musician whom he forges an easy friendship with. But when their pasts start to catch up with them, they have to figure out what exactly it is they're running from. And what will happen if they stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I can't believe this is done. This is my entry for the Sastiel BigBang over on LiveJournal. You should go check it out. Special thanks to playthefool who did all the wonderful art and put up with my strange communication schedule. Also thanks to my awesome beta, who put up with my flails and complaints as I write this, and to my creative writing critique group, who I somehow got to critique the first part. Still wondering how that happened. Check out 8tracks for a companion soundtrack with all the songs featured in the fic.

Castiel heard the music first. It confused him, he walked this way almost every day on his way back to his apartment from work and had never heard music before. Curious, he turned the corner around the building and saw an unfamiliar young man sitting on one of the flat stone benches next to the street. He had long brunette hair, wore a plaid-shirt and jeans, and played an unfamiliar song on the guitar resting in his lap. Castiel walked closer, intrigued by this attractive musician as he watched him pluck out melodies.

After a few moments the busker sensed the new presence and glanced up. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Castiel didn't answer right away and the musician glanced to the side nervously as the silence stretched.

“You are very skilled,” Castiel said eventually.” The musician visibly relaxed.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, flashing a toothy smile. He drew the song to a close and set his guitar to the side, holding a hand out towards Castiel. “I'm Sam,” he said.

“Castiel.”

Sam nodded. “Well, nice to meet you Castiel.”

“Likewise,” Castiel said. Another silence fell between them, stretching out for a minute or two until Castiel decided to break it.. “I haven't seen you around here before.”

“Yeah, I'm new to the area, just came in last week. I'm still moving around a bit, figuring out the best spots, ya'know?” Castiel nodded. He didn't know, but he felt it was the right thing to do. “But anyway,” Sam continued, picking his guitar back up. “Got any requests?” Castiel shook his head. “Come on, just one song. Any song!”

“I don't know any,” Castiel said.

“You don't know _any_ songs?” Sam said in disbelief. “Come on, you have to know at least one. You know the ABC song, right?”

“Naturally,” Castiel said. “Do you want me to request the ABC song?”

“Why not?” Sam said with a shrug. He played a few bars. “Super easy.”

Castiel couldn't help but chuckle slightly. “I'm still going to pass,” he said. “I actually should be going now.”

“Oh, okay then, don't wanna keep you,” Sam said. “I'll see you around then.”

Castiel nodded, heading down the sidewalk. He glanced around for a hat or something to toss a few bills in, but there was nothing nearby. His brow furrowed slightly, but Sam was already playing another song and he didn't want to interrupt, so he continued on his way.

 

#

 

Sam was there again the next day when Castiel walked by, looking up and flashing an easy smile. “Hey Cass.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Cass?” he repeated.

“Uhh, yeah,” Sam said, suddenly looking embarrassed “Sorry if that's too familiar, I grew up with names like John and Bobby and Jo, so something like Castiel is kinda a mouthful—n-not that I don't like your name,” he added quickly “I do! It's really nice. And if you you don't like Cass I'll—”

“It's fine,” Castiel said, stopping Sam before he started rambling. “I've just never been given a nickname before.”

“Really? Never?” Sam said.

Castiel shook his head. “Not by anyone who wasn't family. But I like it, thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Sam said, smiling in relief. “Cass it is then.” The conversation lapsed and Sam drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the body of his guitar. “So, do you work around here or something?” he asked.

“Yes, I work at an accounting firm a few blocks from here.”

“Ah, so you're an accountant,” Sam said. “That's cool. Do you like it?”

“It gives a sense of purpose,” Castiel said. “I enjoy being useful.”

“Well that's cool I guess,” Sam said, fiddling with one of his tuning pegs. “Have you been doing it long?”

“About seven years now,” Castiel said. “It's been a good job.”

Sam nodded but didn't say anything else. Silence fell again and Castiel shifted uncomfortably. He coughed slightly, figuring it was his turn to break it. “I...I was surprised to see you here again,” he said, prompting Sam to look up. “You mentioned yesterday you were still moving around.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said. “Decided this place deserved another visit. I like it here.”

“Why?” Castiel asked. He had no idea what traits a musician would look for in a playing spot.

Sam seemed caught off-guard. “Oh, I, um, the acoustics? I guess? The ambiance...the company...” He looked away, strumming a few errant notes.

“O-oh, I see,” Castiel said, a little embarrassed, but flattered.

“So anyway,” Sam said, sitting back up. “Think of a song yet?”

“I...no, no I haven't,” Castiel said, shaking his head.

“Come on, just one song,” Sam insisted. “If I don't know it I can make something else.”

“Why don't you choose a song?” Castiel suggested

“I always choose the song, that's boring,” Sam said. He played a couple chords. “Come on Cass. What's the first thing that pops into your mind?”

Castiel's mind was literally blank. Even if he did know a few songs he might like to suggest, he wasn't sure they'd come to mind. But, he did remember that earlier at work the break-room TV had been on. Before he even realized it he was already talking. “Commercial jingles.”

Sam paused for a moment. “Really?”

“That's...it was the first thing that came to mind,” Castiel said sheepishly. “I said I don't really know any songs.”

“No no, wait, I actually know a lot of commercial jingles,” Sam said, adjusting his guitar “Hold on.”

“I...actually should probably be going,” Castiel said, pointing down the sidewalk.

“Oh come on, just one song?” Sam said, already playing a tune. “ _When the stars come, out to play babe_.”

Castiel wanted to protest, but he was more than a little surprised at Sam's voice—even if it was just a commercial jingle.

“ _A twinkling show, Oo~ Dinner, outta sight._ ”

Castiel coughed slightly and glanced around, noticing that people were watching them. He though maybe he should leave, but he also wanted to stay and listen to Sam sing. And jingles were short, right?”

“ _Yeah the night time, is golden light time. At McDonalds, it's Mac Tonight!_ ”

Sam finished the song with a flourish and Castiel clapped for him. “That was very good,” he said.

“Thanks,” Sam said with a smile. “Do you still have to go?”

Castiel hesitated, part of him wanted to just stay there and listen to Sam, but he had made already made plans and didn't really want Gabriel to come looking for him again. He was pretty sure there was _still_ glitter in the car from last time Castiel was late.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “But I enjoyed listening to you today, thank you.”

“Thank you for hanging out,” Sam said. “See ya around Cass.”

Castiel nodded and left. “Yes, hopefully.”

 

#

 

“He sang you a McDonalds commercial as a love song?”

Castiel sighed. “It wasn't a love song,” he said, unamused. Gabriel had snuck into the office that day, bringing “lunch” for the both of them, consisting largely of pastries, sweets and other sugar-covered things. Castiel's desk was currently covered with them, which was making it hard to get any work done. “It was just...a song.”

“Uh-huh,” Gabriel said, feet prepped up on one of the only free spots of the desk and tilting his chair back onto two legs as he ate some kind of tart. “And I'm just a monkey's uncle.” Castiel ignored him. “Okay fine,” Gabriel said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Love song or not, you obviously like him or you wouldn't have mentioned him, so spill.”

Castiel shrugged as he started pick up a stack of papers. “He interests me.”

Gabriel let his chair fall back onto all fours and snatched the papers out of Castiel’s hand. “You know the rules,” he said, shaking his finger despite the look Castiel was giving him. “No work till lunch is over.”

“I need to finish my work Gabriel.”

“Yes, but after lunch,” Gabriel said. “You gotta take a break sometime or you'll work yourself into the ground.”

“You were the one who helped me get his job, and I would actually like to keep it,” Castiel said, reaching for his papers back. “Not everyone is satisfied with being a vagrant like you are.”

“Ouch,” Gabriel said, placing a hand to his heart on mock hurt. “Castiel, if I was a less secure person I'd think you didn't approve of my profession.”

“I'm surprised you refer to yourself as having a profession,” Castiel said. “And that you have money to buy so many sweets.”

“Excuse you, these are all homemade,” Gabriel said, swiping up a mini pie and taking a bite as if to prove his point. “And who needs money when you have friends who will give you free stuff?”

Castiel just sighed and shook his head. “I'm just worried about you Gabriel.”

“Um, hello? Who help who out seven years ago when they first moved here?” Gabriel said. “I'm the big brother here—”

“We're cousins.”

“—and _I'm_ the one who need to be worried about _you_. Like your lack of eating habits.”

“I did bring a lunch with me Gabriel,” Castiel said with a sigh. “All this is quite unnecessary.”

“But were you going to eat that lunch?' Gabriel asked. Castiel hesitated. “Hah! See? You really need to work on remembering to eat little bro.”

“I remember to eat,” Castiel insisted, reluctantly picking up one of the pastries. 

“Yeah, but not enough,” Gabriel insisted.

“All you eat are sweets and pastries.”

“Yeah, but I _eat_.” Castiel rolled his eyes and Gabriel grinned as he finished off his tart and pastry. “But back to Sam,” he said, wiping his hand off on the front of his shirt. “What's gotten you so smitten.”

“I'm not _smitten_ ,” Castiel said. “He interests me.”

“What's he like?”

“He's nice, rather polite,” Castiel said. “Very talented, friendly. He called me Cass.”

“Cass?” Gabriel said, sitting up now. “Oh I'm definitely stealing that. You're already at the nickname stage?”

Castiel shrugged, not really putting too much importance on it. “It's only a friendly gesture.”

“Uh-huh,” Gabriel said, the disbelief evident in his voice. He shifted his seat and grabbed a muffin from the spread on the desk. “But anyway, tell me more. Like, what's he look like?”

Castiel barely registered the oddness of the question as he picked at the edges of his pastry. “He's big. Seems tall, though I've never seen him stand up. Brown hair, worn long. Hazel eyes.”

“Brown Hazel or green hazel?” Gabriel asked for clarification.

“Brown,” Castiel said, slightly wary as he glanced up.

Gabriel nodded, resting his elbows on the desk and contemplating his muffin. “And what does he usually wear?”

“Why would you—,” Castiel stopped as realization dawned. “No.”

Gabriel looked up. “Sorry?”

“No Gabriel, you're not going to follow him,” Castiel said.

“And who said I was gonna follow him?” Gabriel said, giving Castiel a look that asked 'why don't you trust me?' “I'm not gonna follow him!” he insisted when Castiel looked unconvinced.

“You're not going to have anyone else follow him either,” Castiel said. “I _know_ you Gabriel”

“Oh come on Cass,” Gabriel said. “I would never—”

“Sally? My bosses old secretary?” Castiel said, eye-brow raised.

Gabriel hesitated. “Okay yeah, but that was mostly for selfish reasons. Just because she took a fancy to you—”

“Clark, the new post office worker. Jane, the florist down the street from your apartment. James, my old neighbor. Will, the—”

“Okay, okay,” Gabriel said, holding his hands up in defeat. “I won't follow him, promise. Really,” he added at Castiel's wary look. “I'll leave the two of you alone for while, okay?”

Castiel eyed his cousin suspiciously, but decided to take his word for it. For now. “Alright,” he said with a nod. “But I should really finish my work now, my lunch break ends in five minutes.”

“And let me guess, you worked the thirty you had before I got here.” Gabriel said, not really meaning it as a question. But, he still sighed and got to his feet, gathering all the uneaten sweets into the basket he had carried them there in. “Fine, but for the record I'm not happy, and you better damn well eat the lunch I know you haven't touched.”

“Your complaint has been noted,” Castiel said. “And...I will.”

Gabriel gave a sharp nod. “Good,” he said. “I'll see you later.” he turned on his heel and headed to the door, pausing as his hand wrapped around the handle. He looked back at Castiel, who was already bent over a new stack of papers, barely eaten pastry set to the side. “Hey.” Castiel looked up. “You got plans later today?”

Castiel's brow furrowed slightly. His eyes glanced over for a split second to the note calendar he kept on his desk, specifically the two words that filled in today’s block. “I...n-nothing specific,” he said eventually. “I may stay at work late.”

Gabriel turned around fully, shifting the weight of the picnic basket in his hand. “Nope, actually you're gonna knock off a few hour early.” Castiel looked back up. “We're gonna head to Candelstop for a night out, I'll gather up the others, 'Kay?”

Castiel opened his mouth again, but his eyes drifted to the calendar again and words failed him. Instead he just sighed and pinched the space between his eyebrows. “If you insist,” he said, tone saying he was too tired to argue.

Gabriel knew it was a ruse but grinned anyway. “Great, I'll be back in a few hours. Be ready!” he said, then disappeared out the door.

Castiel worked for a few minutes after Gabriel left, but after awhile the nagging feeling he had was becoming too distracting and he sighed, sitting back and tossing his pencil on his desk in defeat. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping to the back and pulling out a small, one by two inch photo from a space normally reserved fro credit cards. He looked at it for several minutes, eyes tracing the familiar dark hair, the curve of her chin, her eyes as they glanced over at something away from the camera, mouth turned in an almost sly smile. He ran his finger over the smooth paper, imagining the feel of pale skin instead.

“Happy birthday Meg,” he mummered softly.

 

 

#

 

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, beginning to regret forgoing the donuts earlier. Usually Sunday emergency meetings weren't too much of an issue, but Castiel had woken up that morning with a headache (low blood sugar, the part of his brain that sounded strangely like Gabriel informed him) which made his boss's voice especially grating and the meeting just short of unbearable. After it was finally over, he had headed straight fort the nearest McDonalds in a semi-desperate attempt to get rid of his headache and perhaps find some peace and quiet.

The former however, was a complete failure. The restaurant was much fuller than it should have been so long after the lunch hour, and the single cashier at the counter was making getting his burger a much more painful process than anticipated. Castiel shot a glare at the group of chattering teenage girls in front of him, as if they were the sole cause of all his problems, then ducked his head and returned to his attempts at blocking out the rest of the world.

“Next please.”

The familiar voice made Castiel's ears perk up, but he didn't really—oh.

Castiel's eyes nearly bugged as he saw Sam standing—much taller than a normal human being ought to—behind the counter wearing a slightly too small for him McDonalds uniform, complete with black visor. He stared, practically transfixed as Sam addressed the group of girls who giggled their order at him. It was strange—Castiel assumed it was the same strangeness that came with seeing someone outside of the usual environment you saw them in—but it also seemed somehow...wrong. Sam was a musician—a good one—what was he doing behind the counter at a McDonalds? Especially this McDonalds?

“Next please.”

The call brought him out of his thoughts and Castiel shook his head—winced slightly—then stepped forward. Sam was looking down, typing something on his order screen. “Hello, welcome to McDonalds. May I take your—” he cut off the moment he glanced up, suddenly straightening to his full height ('seems tall' might have been an understatement, Castiel mused silently). “Cass! What are you doing here?”

“Just...getting a quick lunch,” Castiel said. “I had an emergency meeting.”

“Ah, how'd it go?”

“Well enough,” Castiel said. “I...was not aware that you worked here.”

“Oh, yeah.” Sam chuckled. “Well, it's just a part-time thing. Busking doesn't always pay the bills ya'know.” 

Castiel nodded. He supposed that was true, but then why did it still seem to wrong to him?

“But anyway,” Sam said, clapping his hands together. Castiel winced. “Oh. Sorry,” Sam said, freezing immediately. ”Did I...?”

“Just a small headache,” Castiel said, dismissing Sam's worries. “It should clear up soon.”

“Okay, if you're sure,” Sam said. “But...you wanted to order, right?”

Yes, ordering. Restaurant. Line. Somehow this all had slipped Castiel's mind in the past few minutes. He glanced over his shoulder and gave the patrons behind him an apologetic smile before turning back towards Sam. “Yes, Umm. Just give me a number two, with a medium coffee up-charge.”

“That all?” Sam checked as he typed in the order. Castiel nodded. “Here or to go?”

There might have been a hint of hopefulness in his tone, but Castiel must've missed it. “To go,” he said, absently rubbing his temple.

Sam's eyes widened and he nodded like it all make sense. “Right, 'cause of your headache,” he said. He ducked his head like he had just done something foolish. “Of course, my bad. I, uhh—that'll be eight ninety-five.”

Castiel didn't know how he should reply to that, so he just payed and stepped to the side to wait for his food as Sam served the next customer in line. He took the opportunity to look around the rest of the restaurant and noticed that there were a large number of women and girls sitting around, giggling in their little groups and glancing over at the counter. Castiel eyed Sam, but the musician seemed completely unaware of the attention he was drawing and was went about his work. Before Castiel dwelled on it too much, his order arrived and he grabbed the bag and coffee with a thank you before heading out the door. He glanced over his shoulder right before it closed and saw Sam look up and give him a little wave. Castiel nodded in response as the door shut and headed down the street to his car..

 

#

 

After that, it became a regular occurrence for Castiel to see Sam every afternoon on his way back from work. Sometimes he would have plans, or be tired after a long day and just say 'hi' as he passed by, but most of the time he would stop and chat for a few minutes. He didn't stay very long, and sometimes he would just stand and listen to the music for awhile, but as time went on he would stay longer and longer and their conversations drifted from superficial pleasantries to actual topics. During their talks Castiel learned that they both had a love of good books, both knew Latin, shared a passion for folklore and mythology, that Sam was a morning person, liked dogs and running, his favorite place was the library, and that one of his favorite activities (besides playing the guitar) was research just for the sheer joy of learning something new.

Sam also had plenty of interesting things to talk about, which was good because Castiel wasn't the best conversationalist. Sam seemed perfectly content—with assurance from Castiel that he wasn't being boring—to just go on about a new study going on in Greenland or something interesting he read when he was a teen, while Castiel just listened and commented a few times. Not that Sam wouldn't try to get Castiel to participate in the conversation more, and one of his favorite ice breakers seemed to be asking for more requests.

“One song—any song!” Sam said.

Castiel just shook his head like he did every time. “I don't know any,” he insisted.

“You have to know at least _a_ song.”

“I don't really listen to music,” Castiel admitted

“Seriously? Not even the radio or YouTube?” Castiel shook his head. “Well...I mean that's fine, but that doesn't mean you don't know _any_ songs. I know you know the ABC song, so you know 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'.”

“I don't see how that follows,” Castiel said.

“It's the same tune.” Sam said. He strummed a few bars to prove it. “See?”

Castiel just shook his head again. “I believe your repertoire is large enough that you don't need me to request any more kindergarten songs or commercial jingles.”

Sam dunked his head at the complement and seemed to let the matter drop, but then the next day he again asked Castiel if he had a request. “Just in case,” was all he would say whenever Castiel questioned why he kept asking.

The weeks went on, and so did Gabriel's various 'boyfriend' jokes. Castiel eventually just learned to tune them out and just vowed they would never meet. To be fair, Castiel _did_ find Sam rather attractive, and the idea of things turning more romantic was not unappealing...but whenever he started to consider it as a reality instead of just fanciful musings, a nervous ball would form in the pit of his stomach and he would start remembering things better left locked away. And so any sort of romantic inclinations were slowly pushed to the side and practically forgotten.

 

#

 

“Why don't you have a seat?” Sam said one afternoon after Castiel had already been there a couple of minutes.

Castiel started. “What?”

“Have a seat, stay awhile,” Sam said, shoving his guitar case to the side and scooting over so there was plenty of space on the bench. “It must be tiring just standing there for so long."

Castiel was going to say that he didn't mind, that he wasn't tired, maybe even say he had something else to do and escape the situation altogether. But instead he looked at Sam's hopeful face and found himself taking the few steps forwards, turning around, and sitting in the space Sam had made for him.

“There. Better?” Sam asked. Castiel nodded automatically, resting his briefcase in his lap. Sam adjusted his guitar, arm brushing against Castiel's—who was suddenly aware of how close they were.

Sam was playing a song, humming along with unspoken lyrics. Castiel watched him from this new, up close angle, endlessly fascinated by how easily Sam slipped into his own music world. “What made you want to pursue music?” he asked almost without thinking.

“Hum?” Sam looked up, his fingers slowed but didn't quite stop. Castiel regretted his interruption. “Sorry?”

“Why do you enjoy music so much?” Castiel rephrased, deciding that was really what he was wondering about.

“Oh. Hum,” Sam said, thinking for a moment. “I don't know really. Music was kind of an escape for me, growing up. Something I could do on my own. We moved around a lot while I was growing up— _a lot_ a lot. Music became something familiar, something constant even if Dad and Dean were too busy to deal with me.”

Castiel nodded. He could understand that, but Sam's explanation added a couple other questions. “Who's Dean?” he asked.

“My older brother,” Sam said. “We were really close growing up, but we've kinda drifted apart now.

“I'm sorry.”

Sam shrugged. “It's for the best,” he said.

That Castiel could definitely understand.

“So what about you?' Sam asked, tucking his guitar to the side and shifting so he was turned more towards Castiel. “Where did the the whole 'not listening to music thing' start?”

“I've just, never had much interest,” Castiel said. “I've never disliked it, but I've never sought it out either.”

“Seriously man?” Sam said, still disbelieving. “You've never listened to radio in the car? Or had your iPod on while you did chores?”

“I don't have an iPod,” Castiel said. “And I find music extremely distracting while I am trying to focus on other things—like driving.”

Sam sighed. “Well, I guess I can't argue against that,” he said. “But I'm definitely gonna try and get you into it more. And not just because I'm biased—music's good for you. It makes you smarter, which is a proven fact.”

“I am aware of musics benefits, and I am able to appreciate it and the skill behind it,” Castiel said. 

“Yeah, but music is so much more then just how technically correct you can play the note,” Sam said.“It's...it's life.” He shrugged like there was no other way he could thing to explain it.

“If you insist,” Castiel said, perfectly happy leaving it at that.

“No no no,” Sam said, shaking his head. He set his guitar to the side and pulled a pen out of his pocket. “Here, I'm assigning you homework,” he said, grabbing Castiel's arm and pushing up his sleeves, quickly writing down the title and artist of several songs. “Here, start with these, then we can talk about them. It's better if you have a frame of reference to draw from."

When Sam was done, Castiel took his arm back and examined the list crammed onto his forearm. “I will,” he promised. 

When he got to his apartment, he transferred the entire list onto a sheet of paper and then sat down with his laptop to listen to all the songs. He got through the first few, but he ran into the same problem he had before when acquaintances would suggest songs for him to listen to. He could hear the technical qualities of it, enjoy the skill needed to play a particular progression of chords or a certain melody, but he just didn't _get_ it.

“You're not feeling it,” Sam diagnosed when they discussed it the next day.

“I'm not feeling what?” Castiel asked.

“Music's about feeling. About letting the song pick you up, play around a little, then drop you back down,” Sam said. “Music lets you feel. It can be a catharsis, or a pick-me-up, or anything!”

“So music is supposed to make you feel,” Castiel said.

“Yeah. When I'm playing a song, it's usually because it has some sort of meaning for me, whether it's just a feeling I get or if the lyrics are significant.”

“So you chose your songs based on personal significance.”

“Well, yeah,” Sam said. “It's pretty silly to play a song that has no meaning for you or you don't agree with. Well unless you're getting paid, but that's a completely separate issue."

“So were the songs you suggest for me to listen to also somehow significant to you?” Castiel asked.

Sam stammered a little at the question, looking away. “I, well…yeah. Well some of them are personal favorites, but a few...are ones that...remind me of you.” 

Castiel was a little surprised at that, but also felt honored, since he knew what an important part of Sam's life music was. We wanted to ask which ones specifically, but Sam started talking about something completely irrelevant so he let it go.

That night, as he sat in front of his laptop, continuing down the list—and getting distracted by a couple recommendations in the sidebar—he started finding ones that reminded him of Sam and smiled.

 

During his “lessons”, Castiel did find himself developing a greater appreciation of music. He also felt privileged to have such in-depth glimpse into such an integral part of Sam's life. He felt he understood him better, and their conversations became even more diverse and varied. Not only were they able to discus songs now, but the songs would remind them of other thing—or something else they were talking about would remind them of a song, which lead to some interesting tidbit of history and so on. Castiel felt happier then he had for years, and as days went on it showed even when he wasn't hanging out with Sam. Gabriel, to his credit, didn't say much, and while Castiel definitely didn't mind, sometimes the sly smirks and pointed I'm-not-saying-anythings were worse.

Castiel was also spending a lot more time with Sam, staying with him till either the sun started to go down or Sam had to go to work. Talks were made about meeting up outside their usual get-together. Planning a meet on the weekend or somewhere off the street, but nothing went through. Castiel was content though. Those nagging thoughts he had had earlier were starting to creep up again and he was happy for any excuse to keep them down. Regardless of his personal feelings anyway, there was relatively little chance that Sam would even reciprocate such feelings if they were to exist. It didn't matter that maybe a couple days ago the topic of past relationships somehow came up. That vague answers were given and the topic mutually and quickly dropped. The silence that followed may have been awkward, but they managed to get back to more productive conversation relatively easily until Castiel had to head to his apartment—maybe a little earlier then usual. Maybe it had still been a little awkward over the next couple days, but that didn't really _mean_ anything. Sometimes a pipe is just a pipe.

 

One visit, Castiel had left early because there was some party Gabriel was dragging him to later that evening and he wanted to get some extra work done before he left. But halfway to his apartment he realized he forgot one of his folders. So he headed back, planning on just saying hi to Sam as he passed, but unsurprisingly Sam was playing. What made Castiel stop though, before he was close enough for Sam to notice him, was that he was singing as well.

“ _I talk to God as much as, I talk to Satan 'cause, I want to hear both sides. Does that make me cynical? There are no miracles and this is no miraculous life. We walk into the tide._ ”

Castiel moved closer, standing on the other side of a nearby tree. Sam was so completely focused on the song—eyes closed as he strummed along—that he doubted he would have noticed him even if he sat down again.

“ _Well I look up to God but I see trouble 'cause this ain't a miracle. I just want to take my chance to live through a miracle._

_“When the see-saw snaps and splinters your hand don't come crying to me: I'll only see your good side. And believe it's a miracle, a miracle._ ”

Castiel suddenly decided that the folder wasn't all that important and turned back around, walking by a few passers-by as Sam continued his song, trying not to read anything into it. Picking up all those little thoughts and putting them back in their box, tucking it away in a far up corner.

“ _This ain't a miracle, this ain't a miracle…_ ”

 

#

 

“You know, I still haven't met this Sam guy you're always talking about,” Gabriel said as they walked through the door into Sullivan's.

“I'm not _always_ talking about him,” Castiel insisted.

“You're mentioned him at least once in every conversation we've had since you met him,” Gabriel said, raising a hand to the bartender as they searched for a seat. 

“You're exaggerating.”

“'Ooo ~Sam said this. Aaah~ Sam mentioned that. Oh that reminds me of something Sam did yesterday,'” Gabriel imitated, waggling his fingers for emphasis. 

“He's a very eclectic person and connects to a lot of conversations,” Castiel said. “besides, you've brought him up several times as well.”

“Irrelevant. I always talk about people you spend time with,” Gabriel said as he found a table and took a seat. “You however, barely talk.”

“Just because you overindulge in the act does not mean I do not preform it myself,” Castiel said, taking his seat.

Gabriel sat back in his seat, a surprised but also impressed look on his face as the bartender walked up to the table, holding two mugs of beer in his hands. Half of his head was shaven, black, intricate, tribal tattoos, running from the smooth skull, down his neck and shoulder, and ending behind a black band he had around his wrist. Blue-gray eyes seemed to almost glow in the dim light as he looked between the two. “Did I miss something interesting?”

“Cass here is just exercising his inner snark,” Gabriel said, picking up his beer.

“Oh it's Cass now huh?” the bartender said, looking over at Castiel. “Why the change?”

“No change. My name is still Castiel,” Castiel said, taking a sip of his own beer.

“His gentlemen friend gave him a nickname,” Gabriel said, ignoring the glare Castiel gave him.

“Gentleman friend? Now this I have to hear.”

Castiel sighed and set his mug down. “There's nothing to hear. I met Sam on my way back from work a couple months ago and we became friendly. That's all.”

“I haven't even met him yet,” Gabriel added.

“Oh well then it's serious,” the bartender said. “You scare away half the guys you meet yourself.”

“Shut up Coyote. If I'm bad then you're worse,” Gabriel said.

Coyote laughed, running a hand through the unshaven half of his hair, impressively spiked to almost half a foot. “You just keep telling yourself that Lokes,” he said with a sharp-toothed grin.

“Oh would you like proof?” Gabriel challenged, shifting his seat to face Coyote better. “I seem to recall a Tony Jameson a few months ago.”

“Okay, yeah, but what about _your_ Alex Winchell last March?” Coyote countered, not missing a beat.

“That had less to do with me and more to do with her brother. Blake on the other hand—”

“Oh you're not seriously bringing Blake into this. You sabotaged it just as much as I did.”

They continued like that for awhile, and Castiel found himself quickly drifting his focus away from the conversation. He scanned the rest of the bar absently, sipping on his beer until he spotted a familiar mop of hair by the pool tables and nearly choked.

Gabriel and Coyote immediately looked back at him as he pounded his chest, trying to get the alcohol out of his lungs. “You cool Cass?” Gabriel asked.

“Yes, yes I'm fine,” Castiel said, voice hoarser than usual. “Please, don't let me interrupt you.”

“Na, you probably saved your cousins butt anyway,” Coyote said, tapping the table as he straightened back up. “Plus I better get back to the bar or my boss will have my ass—and not in the fun way. See ya boys later.”

“Yeah, go ahead and use your _job_ as an excuse, just 'cause you're afraid of losing,” Gabriel called as Coyote walked off. Coyote responded with the finger over his shoulder.

Castiel's gaze meanwhile had drifted back over to the pool tables, where he confirmed that no, his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, and yes, that was indeed Sam over there playing pool with a bunch of truckers. 

“What is it?” Gabriel said, leaning forward over the table to try and catch what Castiel was looking at. “You wanna play pool or something?”

Castiel started, looking back at Gabriel quickly with slightly wide eyes. “What? No, no. I'm good. It's nothing.”

Gabriel's eyes narrowed as he took another drink, obviously not buying it. “You sure? You seem awfully interested in those pool sticks.”

Castiel swallowed, reluctant to go ahead and introduce Gabriel to Sam. It had already been strange seeing him in the McDonalds, it was practically surreal spotting him _here_ , just playing a game and periodically taking swigs out of a beer bottle. Having him meet someone from outside their pre-established worlds, purposely breaking that spell even further, that would be too much.

“No, I'm fine,” Castiel insisted. “Thought I recognized a client, but I was mistaken.”

Gabriel hummed and sat back in his seat, not one-hundred percent convinced, but accepting it for now. “Okay, whatever. Hey, you want another beer?”

Castiel glanced down at the one he had—not even half-finished—then gave Gabriel a look. “No, I barely want _one_ of theses. I can't understand why you drink so many. It's vile, lukewarm and watered down.”

“But it's _free_ watered down beer,” Gabriel pointed out as he took another drink. 

“You need to stop taking advantage of your friends or you're going to get them in trouble,” Castiel said.

“Hey, no one _should_ pay for beer this bad,” Gabriel said. “People don't come here for great drinks, They come here for a cheep way to get drunk and get in trouble.”

“Another reason why I don't enjoy coming here,” Castiel said, unable to help glancing over at Sam, who was currently bent over a pool table, lining up what seem to be a particularly difficult shot.

“You don't like going anywhere, so that's not a big surprise,” Gabriel said.

“I enjoy going places,” Castiel defended. “I like the library.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “That doesn't count. Someplace _fun_.”

“Just because it doesn't involve alcohol, does not mean it isn't fun,” Castiel said, taking a sip of his beer. “And it has the added benefit of remembering everything the next morning.” 

Gabriel snorted, moved to drink some more, then realized he had already finished his glass and sighed. “Yeah whatever. I'm gonna—” he froze just as he started to get up, eye fixed at a point over Castiel's shoulder. “Shit.”

“What?” Castiel asked, twisting to see what Gabriel was referring to.

“Sigyn,” Gabriel said. “I ran into her again last week and...well.” He shrugged.

Castiel sighed. “And you didn't call her?”

“Nope,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. He patted the table top as he slowly slipped out of his chair. “I...I think I'm gonna go ahead and go.”

“Already? What about me?” Castiel asked.

“No no, you stay. It'll cause too much attention of we leave at the same time. I might be able to slip out the side door alone before she sees me,” Gabriel said as he backed up around the nearby booths. “You stay here, finish your beer, then come out in like fifteen minutes. I'll wait in the car. Kay? Thanks.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel started, then sighed and shook his head as his cousin disappeared behind a group of rowdy collage students in his poor attempt at stealth. He saw the side door open, then close with a muffled bang, and wondered if there was really any point to keeping with Gabriel's 'fifteen minute' plan. He snuck a glance and Sigyn looked completely oblivious to anything other then the plate of nachos in front of her—especially if those empty glasses around her were any indication.

He took another sip of his disgusting beer—more for something to do then anything else—and his gaze once again drifted towards the pool tables. It looked to be a new game, and judging by the pile of bills resting on the wood edge, it was high-stakes. He watched as Sam walked around the table, studying the balls and angles carefully as the truckers stood around with amused looks on their faces.

“Admiring the view?”

Castiel nearly fell out of his seat as Coyote appeared beside him, white teeth glinting in the dim light. The bartender nodded subtly towards the pool tables, where Sam had leaned over to line up his shot, back towards them. Castiel glanced pointedly away, cheeks flushing. “Hey, there's no harm in looking,” Coyote said. “I'm sure your boy Sam wont mind.” Castiel gave him an unamused look and Coyote just laughed, turning to lean back against the table and admire the view better himself. He stretched, his tattoos seemed to dance from the movement of compact muscles underneath. “Hey, where'd Loki get off to? He'd enjoy this.”

“He saw one of his exes and left,” Castiel said, resisting the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

“Let me guess, didn't call?” Castiel nodded. “Man, I always tell him that's gonna bite him in the ass.”

“Gabriel has a habit of not listening to advice,” Castiel said.

“You know, I always find it funny you still call him Gabriel,” Coyote said, glancing over. Castiel looked up, confused, but before it could be elaborated a clattering of pool cues drew their attention. Across the bar, Sam was trying to right the cue rack he had apparently run into, as the group of truckers he had been playing with were beginning to surround him. The noise of the bar drowned out what they were saying, but from the looks of it, it wasn't good.

“Uh-oh. Pretty boy's in trouble,” Coyote said.

Castiel was on his feet the second the first punch was thrown.

His quick response however, was not needed, as Sam easily dodged the punch, and instead slammed into his attackers chest, sending him into one of the concrete supports nearby. Two more truckers came up behind him, grabbing his arms to hold him down. Sam headbutted the one on the left, then swung the dazed mans weight into the other trucker, both hitting the wall. Another trucker came up and swung at Sam with a cue stick. Sam blocked it with his forearm, wincing as it splintered against it, then grabbed the bent cue and used it as an anchor to pull the man towards him, jabbing his sternum with the blunt end and knocking the wind out of him.

At this point, most of the truckers had left, and almost all of the other patrons had gathered around to watch the fight, cheering at every hit. Castiel held himself back at the last second, afraid of igniting a full-on bar fight if he went to Sam's aid. Fortunately the musician seemed to be holding his own pretty well. Still holding the cue stick, Sam whirled around quickly as a fifth trucker came at him with a shout of rage. He side-stepped the truckers punch, then swung the cue stick low, knocking his legs out from under him so he went skittering across the floor. One of the men he slammed into the wall came at him again, catching him by surprise and getting in a couple good hits, sending Sam backwards into one of the pool tables and the pool cue clattering to the floor. 

The trucker got in another right-hook, grinning as he saw the fight as almost over. But Castiel saw the flash of anger in Sam's eyes that served as the only warning before he surged forward. He feinted a punch, but instead stepped to the aide and grabbed the back of the trucker's head, slamming it into the edge of the pool table, letting him slide down the the floor unconscious. He turned to face other two truckers still in the fight, the hint of rage still in his eyes. He dodged the first truckers punch, scooping up the cue stick again and slamming it into his kidney, finally causing it to break completely. The trucker growled in pain, but Sam used the broken end still in his hand and hit him in the base of the head, pushing him forward where he tripped over his unconscious friend and sprawled on top of the pool table. The other got in a quick uppercut while Sam was distracted, but Sam responded by ducking down, jamming his elbow right into his sternum, the sound of cracking ribs following, then jerking his knee into the truckers face when he doubled over, breaking his nose and causing him to slump over unconscious.

Sam straightened back up with some difficulty, panting and rolling his shoulder to try and get the kinks out of it. He started walking, but ended up stumbling into the pool table, which was when Castiel moved again.

“Sam,” he said, breaking the line of buzzed patrons to go to his aid.

“Cass?” Sam said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Never mind that, are you alright?” Castiel asked, taking stock of the obvious wounds. He had several cuts and scrapes on his face and arms, and the corner of his mouth was dribbling blood, which Sam wiped away absentmindedly with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine,” Sam said as he tested his nose for blood with his knuckle. “Happens sometimes in these dive—Cass!”

But Castiel was already reacting, whirling around and catching the trucker's punch. He forced his arm back till there was a popping sound and the trucker screamed. Letting the arm go he gave him a quick uppercut, spun him around, then kicked the back of his knees in so he slumped forwards onto the floor.

Sam looked down at the now unconscious trucker, then back to Castiel with a look of blank shock on his face. “Holy crap.”

Coyote weaved his way through the noisy crowd, a little too shocked and not quite drunk enough to start fighting themselves, till he stepped down to the pool tables. “Dammit Cass, stop trying to be the hero in bar fights okay?” he said. He looked at the two of them, then at the several dazed and unconscious truckers scattered around the tables. He sighed. “Cops are already on their way. You two get out of here before you have to rely on Loki to bail you out.”

Castiel nodded and grabbed Sam's arm, pulling him towards the exit. “We will. Thank you Coyote.”

“Yeah no problem, don't say I never did anything for you,” he said, crossing his arms. His eyes scanned over Sam, lingering a little longer then necessary. “And you be careful from now on pretty boy. You're big, but we don't want your pretty face messed up by an ugly fist, 'kay?” He winked and Sam looked confused, letting Castiel lead him back out one of the side exits.

The cold night air was like jumping into a cold lake after the heat of the bar. Sam took a deep breath as they walked out across the back parking lot. “Oh man,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Where did you learn to _fight_ like that?”

Castiel hesitated. “I...I worked as a bodyguard for awhile,” he said, a half-truth. “And I took a lot of self-defense classes growing up.”

“A bodyguard. You?” Sam said. He laughed. “Well, with those moves I can see it. What made you go from body guarding to accounting though?”

“I...well, umm,” Castiel mummered, wringing his hands. There were a lot of things about this night that he hadn’t expected, but this was by far the most surprising. And the one he least wanted to deal with. “The—uhh—the, the person.” He cleared his throat and somehow managed to keep his voice from quavering, though he refused to look at Sam. “The person I was protecting was killed.”

“Oh,” Sam said, smile dropping like a stone. “Oh God Cass, I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean...”

Castiel shook his head. “It, it's fine. It was a long time ago,” he said. He took a breath and looked up at Sam, who seemed hesitant to try and continue the conversation. “I, I was impressed by your defensive skills in the bar.”

“Uh, thanks,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his head. “My Dad wanted to make sure I could hold my own. He taught me and my brother a lot of tricks.”

“I noticed you never threw a punch,” Castiel said. “Wouldn't that have been easier to disable them?”

“Well, probably,” Sam said with a slight chuckle. “But breaking truckers jaws and being able to play an A chord properly don't really go well together.”

“Right,” Castiel said, looking down at his hand, where several bruises were already beginning to form on his knuckles. “Your playing.”

“Yeah, it's a bit of a disadvantage, but it's worth it. Of course, I also can't play guitar if I'm dead, so there is a line. But I try to avoid fight whenever possible anyway.”

“Then why were you in a dive bar at ten o'clock at night hustling pool with irritable truckers?” Castiel asked.

“Who says I was _hustling_ pool?” Sam said.

“The bar fight you just got into around the pool tables and the stack of 100s in your pocket,” Castiel replied. Sam looked down at his pocket and chuckled.

“Okay, you got me. But in my defense, I didn't know they were _irritable_ truckers until it was too late,” Sam said. “Pool is just something I do whenever I need to pick up extra cash.”

“But...I thought that was what busking was for.”

“Yeah, I guess that too, but busking and McDonalds don't always pay the rent. I've been playing pool for years though, so it's not hard.”

“Have you been hustling pool for years?” Castiel asked, a hit of humor in his voice.

“Yeah actually,” Sam said with a chuckle. Castiel looked horrified. “See my Dad was a private investigator, but he was the type of guy who'd help clients who couldn't really pay a lot, or work on cases that no one actually hired him on, so we were pretty strapped most of the time. So, whenever we would go to various bars for him to gather information on the case, me and Dean started playing pool for cash.” He hummed fondly, remembering days passed as he leaned back against the lamppost they had paused by. “It worked out pretty well actually. We were both kids, so of course we were underestimated. I was already really good, plus I was small at that age.”

“Relative to what?'" Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam grinned. “Yeah, I know it's hard to believe looking at me now, but I didn't hit my growth spirt till junior year.”

“And yet your father was okay with you both hustling pool?” 

“Well...yes and no,” Sam said. “If we ended up starting a fight then you bet we would be chewed out in the car. If nothing happened then he'd just take the money and not say anything.”

Castiel started to wonder what kind of man Sam's father was, when the whoop of a police siren interrupted. Both he and Sam turned to look as a single squad car pulled into the parking lot and parked next to the main entrance of the bar. 

“Well that was unsettlingly delayed,” Sam said.

“The police get called to Sullivan's almost every night and no one ever talks,” Castiel said. “Sometimes they don't even bother sending a car.”

“Oh, 'kay then,” Sam said, watching the two policemen get out of their car and enter the building. “Should...Did they see us? Do we need to go give a statement or something?”

“They probably didn't see us, and if they did they wont question us,” Castiel said. “Hardly anyone presses charges, and Coyote would field any questions.”

“Coyote...the bartender you seemed to know?”

“Yes. He's a friend of my cousins, and the only reason we ever come here,” Castiel said. 

“Oh, that's cool,” Sam said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking up at the night sky. Unfortunately the lights of the city drowned out any stars, but you could see vague hints of them through the orange glow. The moon hung high over the buildings, the only natural light in sight. “I should probably be going actually. Gotta get to work in ten hours.” He stretched, then hissed suddenly.

“Would you like a ride?” Castiel offered. “To a hospital maybe?”

“No, no hospital,” Sam said, holding his side. “I'm fine, adrenalin’s just wearing off.” 

“Are you sure?” Castiel said. “You took some pretty heavy hits back there.”

“I'm fine, no hospitals,” Sam said, determination in his voice. “I'll just take the bus back to my place and ice everything—this isn't my first time at the rodeo.” He smiled.

“If you're sure...” Castiel said.

“I”m sure, thanks though,” Sam said as he walked backwards towards the street. He gave a wave. “See ya Monday.”

“Monday,” Castiel confirmed, raising his own hand in farewell. Sam turned around and Castiel watched as he walked down the lot, glancing over at the bar a couple times as he passed, until he reached the sidewalk and disappeared behind the rows of building. Castiel sighed softly, tucking his hands into his pockets as a cool breeze blew by. He remembered Sam didn't have a jacket on that evening and hoped he would be warm enough waiting for the bus. He turned and crossed the grass strip separating the bar's parking lot and the one of the canning factory next door where his car actually was (he wasn't going to subject his vehicle to Gabriel and Coyote's prank war ever again. Ever).

Gabriel was laying down in the backseat, but immediately sat up as soon as Castiel opened the door and climbed in. “Took you long enough,” he said, resting his chin on the seat.

“I was held up,” Castiel said, digging the keys out of his pocket and putting them in the ignition. “There was a fight.”

“And I missed it? Come on,” Gabriel said as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Well, at least give me the details. I assume you stepped in?”

Castiel flushed at being so predictable and almost denied it, but there wouldn't be any point. “Yes, but I wasn't needed. Sam is quite a capable fighter.”

“Wait wait wait back up there,” Gabriel said, turning in his seat to face Castiel, who was wincing as he realized what he said. “Sam was there? _The_ Sam? Mysterious, guitar playing, McDonald's jingle serenading Sam? And he was in the fight? Did he have to defend your honor?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Yes he was and no he didn't” he said. “Some truckers thought he was hustling them in pool.”

“And was he?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel huffed indignantly. “Does it matter?”

Gabriel shrugged and sat back in his seat. “No, I guess not really. I didn't think you were really into bad boys, but then again once I think about it—” He gasped and sat up as he realized something. “Oh my God _that_ was why you kept on looking at the pool tables, _Sam_ was there. Ha. Hey—” Gabriel smacked Castiel on the arm as he was backing the car up. “Why didn't you introduce us?”

“Please don't hit the driver,” Castiel said as he shifted gears.

“Answer my question and I'll think about it.”

Castiel sighed. “It didn't occur to me to do so,” he said. “Plus he had to go catch his bus.”

“Didn't occur to you?” Gabriel said. “Hey, are those police for you?” Castiel gave him a look. “You're right, of course they are. But really? It didn't _occur_ to you? And what's this about catching a bus? The buses stopped running an hour ago.”

Castiel looked over at Gabriel as they paused at a red light. “What do you mean? The buses run all night.”

“Yeah, in the city center they do, but out this far they stop at eight and don't start up again till five,” Gabriel said. “You have to walk like five miles from here to reach a running bus stop this time of night.” 

Castiel wrinkled his brow, almost missing when the light changed. “Maybe...maybe he didn't know that,” he said.

“Yeah, maybe. If so though you might be overselling his intelligence a little bit, 'cause that's hard to miss after what—at least a month.”

“ _I_ didn't know that,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, and you also don’t rely on public transport to get you home at night,” Gabriel countered. Castiel had to admit he had a point and focused back on the road.

“Why would he lie about that though?” Castiel said, mostly to himself. “I offered him a ride.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Maybe he doesn't want you to know where he lives.” he suggested. “I mean, he _was_ just hustling pool I'm assuming.”

Castiel was going to say something, but didn't. Instead he was thinking about the patches on Sam's jeans, the limited variety of shirts he remembered him wearing, the piece of rope he used as a guitar strap and ragged black case he carried around with him, never open. For the rest of the drive to Gabriel's place he stayed silent.

 

#

 

On Monday it was cold. Castiel hated the cold. He had on at least three layers on underneath his usual trenchcoat and still felt it wasn't enough. Not that it was actually _that_ cold, but it was definitely more than jeans and a flannel shirt weather. Sam had added an army jacket to his wardrobe Castiel saw as he walked over to the bench, but it still didn't seem like enough. Sam looked up and smiled, but Castiel was suddenly distracted by small things he hadn't noticed before. Like how Sam's jeans were wearing thin in several places and patched in others, how he always wore the same beat-up boots, how a fraying piece of twine wrapped around the neck of his guitar served as a guitar strap. Coming from an affluent family, Castiel had never had to worry about things like that growing up, so it was with a touch of guilt he went and sat next to Sam.

“Hey Cass,” Sam said, nose and cheeks reddened from the cold. “Bit nippy out today, huh?”

“Are you warm enough?” Castiel asked, concerned.

“Me? Yeah I'm fine,” Sam insisted. “This old thing's surprisingly warm.”

“It's going to start snowing soon,” Castiel warned. “I don't want you getting sick sitting outside all the time without proper protection.”

“It's fine Cass,” Sam said. “I'm a grown man, I can take care of myself.”

Castiel ducked his head. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean…”

“I understand, don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “Besides, it's barely October, I think we have time till snowfall.”

“New England autumns are still very cold,” Castiel said. “I'm just worried about you.”

“Don't be,” Sam said with a hint of a laugh. “I'll be fine, okay?”

Castiel reluctantly nodded, but only because he didn't want to overstep his bounds. He sat quietly as Sam played, but there was one other thing he wanted to bring up.

“Why do you never have a hat out?” he asked when there was a break in the song.

Sam stopped and looked over at Castiel. “What?”

“In my experience street musicians have a hat or something of the like out in order to collect tips. But I've never seen you do that and I was wondering why.”

“Oh, well…” Sam said, shrugging. “I don't know, forget I guess. It just...feels _weird_ really.”

“How so?” Castiel asked.

Sam sighed and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I don't know. I just...I've just never really payed for tips. I play because I like playing, not to make money. Asking—even if it's just putting a cup out or something—seems almost like begging.”

“It's not begging, you're providing a service,” Castiel said. “It's all legal, there's nothing bad about it.”

“Yeah I know,” Sam said. “And I guess you're right.” He hesitated for a moment, glancing at his case. The he leaned over and set it flat on the ground, popping the locks and opening it before straightening back up. “There. Happy?”

“Happier,” Castiel said, reaching into his pocket. “now let me—”

“No,” Sam said, reaching out a hand to block Castiel from getting up. “I can't let you do that.”

“I don't mind...” Castiel insisted.

“ _I_ mind,” Sam said. “I have this things against taking money from friends. I opened it up 'cause it seemed important to you that I did, but I draw the line at you contributing, okay?”

Castiel was shocked into nodding. He had personally considered Sam a friend for weeks now, but hearing it said and reciprocated was...nice. Slowly he pocketed his wallet and settled down. “Alright. If you insist.”

Sam smiled as he readjusted hid guitar. “Thank you,” he said. “And now...” He had a mischievous smirk as he strummed an ascending chord. “Any requests?”

Castiel chuckled and shook his head, his worries about Sam not assuaged, but willing to be put aside for the rest of the evening.

 

Weeks went on, and as the leaves continued to change and fall and the air grew colder. Yet—mush to Castiel's dismay—Sam all but outright refused to get better winter gear.

“I'm fine,” Sam insisted when Castiel mentioned it for the thousandth time, wearing two shirts and his army jacket zipped all the way up. His nose was bright red and his hands were chapped. “I've survived worse.”

“That doesn't mean you have to suffer through now,” Castiel said. “If you need another jacket I—” 

“No, I'm not taking your jacket,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I. Am. Fine.”

 

“He's not fine,” Castiel said to Gabriel over the music of the Halloween party he had been dragged to. “His face is red, his hands look _horrible_ , and he keeps on sniffing like he's got a cold.”

“Well then do something about it,” Gabriel said, popping more skittles into his mouth.

“I'm _trying_ ,” Castiel said, ignoring the looks he was getting for his apparent lack of costume (he had refused to dress up, so Gabriel had taken to telling everyone he was terminator in disguise. Castiel never corrected him because it stopped his whining). “He wont let me do anything to help.”

“And when has that ever stopped you before?” Gabriel said, shifting through the skittles bowel for the green ones.

“When my 'fixing' ending up making things worse.” Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“So you made a few mistakes, big deal, happens to the best of us,” he said. “It doesn't make you a bad person incapable of helping anyone ever again.”

“Sam is my friend,” Castiel said. “I don’t want to do anything that could jeopardize that.”

“Then help him subtly,” Gabriel said with a shrug that made his cupid wings bounce up and down wildly.

Castiel automatically started to retort how that was a silly ides, but then stopped. “Actually...that may work.”

“Don't have to sound so surprised, I _do_ have good ideas,” Gabriel said, moving away from the skittles and examining the plate of spooky Peeps.

“But how would I do that?” Castiel mused to himself.

“I don't know, sounds like a personal problem,” Gabriel said, impaling a ghost peep on a pencil and hanging to to Castiel. “Here, lets go make S'mores in the fireplace. You need to eat something before you pass out.”

Castiel gave him a disproving look but didn't protest. Mostly because he knew it was futile, but also he was preoccupied with making a plan to help Sam.

 

# 

 

That Monday, Castiel was prepared. He walked down the sidewalk on his way back to his apartment, just like any other day, and stopped by the usual spot where Sam was playing.

“Hey, you're here kinda early,” Sam said, looking up as Castiel sat down.

“Less of a case load,” Castiel replied. The rest of the visit was like any other, chatting, songs, and as it got dark Castiel said his goodbyes while Sam packed up. However, as Castiel started to leave, he reached into his pocket, pulling something out and dropping it onto the ground next to the bench, then hurried away, mission accomplished.

“Cass, wait!” he heard behind him a minute later. He stopped—this wasn't part of the plan—and turned around reluctantly as Sam jogged up to him. “I think you dropped this,” Sam said, holding out the knit hat Castiel had just left on the sidewalk. “Which his weird 'cause I've never seen you wear a hat.”

“Ah, yes,” Castiel said, frantically thinking of something. “I brought it, just in case, but I don't really need it.” He cleared his throat and looked up hesitantly. “Why...why don't you keep it...?”

Sam looked confused for a moment, then understanding dawned and he looked annoyed. “Cass,” he said. “I told you—” but he was interrupted by a sudden sneeze. Then another, which turned into a complete fit. “Whoa, sorry about that,” Sam said, when he was finished.

“You're sick,” Castiel said.

“What? No, I'm not sick. It's just a sneeze. Lots of people get them in the winter.”

“It's not winter yet,” Castiel pointed out. “It's fall, and you're getting sick because you're sitting out here for hours in nothing but a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Cass...”

“Keep the hat.”

“What?”

“Keep. The hat,” Castiel repeated. “I don't want you to get any sicker.”

Sam started to protest, but something in Castiel's expression told him that he wasn't budging. With a resigned sigh, Sam opened the hat and pulled it on, throwing his arms out to the side. “There, happy?”

“Yes,” Castiel said with a nod, a smile on his face.

 

The next day, Castiel was more obvious with his gifts. Sam looked up—wearing the hat Castiel noted—and sighed when he saw the scarf and hobo gloves. “Really?”

“You'll need more then just a hat to survive the winter,” Castiel said, holding the bundle out. “Here.”

Sam sighed again and took the knitwear reluctantly. “Thank you,” he said, popping the tags and tossing the scarf loosely around his neck before pulling on the gloves. Suited up, he readjusted his guitar as Castiel sat down. Castiel suspected Sam might appreciate the gifts more then he was letting on, he was a lot more relaxed as the heavy wool helped him keep his body heat, and his fingers moved much more easily across the wire strings. He was still sniffing a lot though, and sneezed more then Castiel could brush off. He didn't say anything then though, and instead planned another gift for tomorrow.

However, as Castiel rounded the corner the next day—thermos filled with hot chicken soup in hand—he found the bench empty. He stopped, staring at the stone fixture like if he just waited long enough, Sam would suddenly materialize as if he'd never been gone. He even wandered over, searching for some clue that maybe Sam had just ducked into one of the storefronts for a moment. He took a hesitant seat, and waited on the cold, stone bench for a solid twenty minutes before he finally let it sink in that Sam wasn't coming today.

Castiel was a lot more shaken by Sam's absence then he expected, but that was mostly overshadowed by his now intense worry about Sam's well-being. He was probably sick in bed—which if Gabriel's vague suggestions were to be believed, may have been little better than the outside. The more optimistic side of him suggested that maybe he was just at work, changed shifts or something. The self-deprecating part thought maybe he had pushed too far and Sam had decided to set up shop somewhere else, purposefully avoiding Castiel. That was probably the worst possible scenario Castiel could think of as he made the walk to his apartment.

Sam was gone the next day as well. And the next. And the day after that. Castiel continued to bring the thermos of soup though, heated up in the break-room microwave right before he left—just in case. That Saturday was one of his working Saturdays, so he brought the soup with him that day as well—still no Sam. Monday though, four days later (excluding Sunday, when Castiel mainly moped around the apartment until Gabriel dragged him to a party where he moped around the food table), Sam was back, sitting on the bench and playing some upbeat song Castiel couldn't name.

“Sam,” he said, rushing up with a touch more exuberance then he meant to.

“Hey Cass, long time no see,” Sam said with that bright smile of his. “Sorry for disappearing like that , cold got the better of me for a few days.” Sam looked at the thermos. “What's that?”

“Soup,” Castiel said, holding it out. “For your cold.”

Sam looked up at him in surprise. “You brought me soup? But how did you know I'd be back today?”

“I didn't,” Castiel confessed.

Sam looked confused for a moment. “Wait...have you been carrying that around with you all this time?” Castiel nodded sheepishly. “Wow...I...” Sam looked at the thermos. “You-you really didn't have to Cass.”

“I wanted to,” Castiel said. He opened the outer pocket of his briefcase and pulled out a spoon, handing it and the thermos to Sam. “Here.”

“T-Thanks,” Sam said, taking the implement as Castiel took a seat. He carefully unscrewed the top and took a sip. “Wow, this good. Did you make it yourself?”

“I 'made it' from a can,” Castiel said. “But I did choose the can carefully.”

Sam laughed—even though Castiel hadn’t meant it as a joke—and continued eating. “This is actually just what I needed. Thank you Cass.”

Castiel nodded. “My pleasure.”

“I do feel a little awkward sitting here stuffing my face while you just...sit,” Sam confessed, looking into the Thermos.

“I don't mind,” Castiel assured him, motioning for him to continue eating. However, the next day he did bring along an extra Thermos for himself to make Sam feel more comfortable.

 

They continued these little picnics for awhile, chatting and eating. Castiel tried to get a variety of soup, something new everyday. He even tried his hand a making it a few times, but his lack of cooking skills quickly put an end to that (Sam insisted his soups were all delicious though). While hot soup couldn't hurt of course, as the weather took a turn for the colder, Castiel once again began to worry about Sam. So one day, as they were eating, he casually asked Sam for his jacket size.

Sam paused, putting his spoon down. “Wait, no.”

Castiel looked up from his own soup. “What?”

“You are not buying me anymore clothes, okay Cass?” Sam said. “Thank you, but you've done more then enough already. I'll just stick to the soup from now on, okay?”

Reluctantly, Castiel agreed, but he still felt Sam needed more for the upcoming winter. He wasn't shivering in his seat as much and hadn’t gotten sick again, but would that hold during the New England snow? Days passed and as the forecast begin to get more and more frsoty, his worries increased. In his room, he wondered about possibilities. If only there was a way to give him something so he couldn't refuse it. Or at least get him to listen long enough to convince him to take it. Maybe...He got up out of his chair and opened his closet, digging into the back and emerging with an old, somewhat faded, University of Chicago sweatshirt. He hadn't worn it in years, and it was big when he had gotten it. It _might_ fit, and it was easier then trying to stumble through a department store. But there was still the matter of _getting_ to him. He couldn't just walk up and hand him a sweater, he'd refuse it out of hand.

Castiel shook his head and tossed the sweater on the bed, feeling silly. Obviously Sam didn't want his help, maybe he actually _didn't_ need his help. Just because Castiel cocooned during the winter didn't mean everyone was so thin skinned. And army jackets were pretty warm. Maybe he actually wasn't out in the cold that much and only sat out to meet with Castiel. Maybe Sam had a car or took the bus to work...

He looked back at the sweater.

 

That Sunday, Castiel walked into McDonalds with a laptop tucked under his arm and a tote-bag over his shoulder.

“Hey Cass!” Sam said from behind the counter as Castiel walked up. “What are you doing here?”

“Felt like a drive and a coffee,” Castiel said.

“In this weather?” Sam said, glancing outside at the snowfall. “Not that I'm complaining about seeing you more, you just act like your part lizard sometimes.”

“I have a very good in-car heating system,” Castiel said. Sam laughed.

“Well I'll grab you your coffee,” Sam said, ringing it up as Castiel pulled out his wallet. “And I have a break coming up if you don't mind the company?”

“Not at all,” Castiel said with a smile.

Sam got the coffee, calling back to his manager that he was taking his break a little early, then walked around the counter and met Castiel at one of the tables. They chatted for awhile about nothing in particular in till Sam's break was over. Castiel hung around for a little while longer, catching up on some work and finishing his drink. When he was done he packed up and headed to the trashcan to toss his empty cup.

“Heading out?” Sam asked in between customers.

“Yes, I should be heading back,” Castiel said. “This was nice though.”

“Yeah, definite improvement on most Sundays,” Sam said. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Castiel confirmed. Sam grinned and nodded, then turned away as one of the other workers called him.

The second his back was turned, instead of heading to the door Castiel turned down a short hall to some back rooms. Glancing to either side, he slipped into one marked EMPOLYES ONLY. He let out a small sigh of relief when he saw he was actually in the locker room, then set to work trying to figure out which one was Sam's.

“You don't work here.”

Castiel nearly had a heart attack at the unexpected voice, whirling around to see a teenage boy on the other side of the room, finishing up tying his shoe.

“Oh, uuuhh, n-no...I don't,” Castiel said, eventually managing to speak.

“The sign says 'employed only',” the boy said. “You're not supposed to be here.”

“No—Yes. I know...” Castiel glanced at the boys name-tag. “Gary. You see...” He glanced around, wondering if it was worth making a run for it. He decided against it. “I'm a friend of Sam's—”

Gary gasped excitedly and his eyes immediately brightened. “You're Sam's friend?” he said. Castiel nodded slowly, a little frightened at the intense reaction. “Ah man—Sam's so cool! He's so tall and all the girls are hitting on him.” He glanced around and leaned in conspiratorially—even though they were still on opposite side of the room. “Did you know he has a tattoo?” Gary asked in a loud whisper.

“I-I can't say I did,” Castiel said.

“It's really cool,” Gary assured him. “It's like a pentagram thing, on his chest.” He waved in the general area on his own chest. “Really cool. I'm really into the whole witches and demons thing—I guess Sam is too. We don't really talk about that stuff at work. But so did Sam send you in here tp get something?”

“Uh, no,” Castiel said—immediately regretting it because that would have been a wonderful excuse. “He, um.” He quickly reached into the tote-bag and pulled out the sweater. “He left this, last time we met. And I didn't want to bother him while he was at work, so I thought I'd just leave it in here for him.”

“Oh that's cool,” Gary said. “His lockers on the top level, third on the left. He never locks it.”

Castiel turned around, and quickly found the locker in question. Sam W. was written in sharpie on masking tape underneath it a mostly stretched out number five. He opened the locker and saw Sam's backpack was already in there, along with his jacket, hat, scarf, and gloves. He managed to fit the sweater in there as well, having to push the door a little harder then expected to get it to click closed.

He turned back around, nodding awkwardly to Gary who was still standing there watching him. Clearing his throat he clutched the empty tote bag tighter and hurried out the locker room, hearing a quiet 'bye' behind him. He headed to the door—checking to make sure Sam wasn't looking that way at the moment, then rushed out onto the snowy street and to his car.

 

Castiel approached the usual spot with a modicum of apprehension. Sam was wearing the sweater, but said none of usual greeting as Castiel walked up. He was playing some song Castiel thought he might've heard in the grocery store once or twice, almost pointedly ignoring him as he hesitantly took his usual seat, thermos of soup resting on his knee.

Sam finished the song, set his guitar aside, and took the soup and spoon—all without looking at Castiel. He said nothing as he ate and Castiel was forced to eat in silence as well, an overwhelming feeling that he had gone too far washing over him.

“So Gary told me a funny story yesterday,” Sam said finally, after what felt like an eternity. “Didn't know I had gone to the University of Chicago—much less gotten a sweater from there, seeing as how I've never even _been_ to Chicago.” Castiel ducked his head, but Sam continued. 

“And do you know what else was interesting to learn?” Sam asked. “That apparently my initials were C.N.—isn't that funny? I mean, you wouldn't happen to know anything about all this, would you _Cass_?”

“I'm sorry,” Castiel said, trying to see if his head would fit into the neck of the thermos. “I know you said to stop and I agreed, but I was worried you would get sick again with the snow and if there was _anything_ I could do to prevent that I...I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I misled you. I'm sorry I broke into your locker and tricked your coworker. But...” he hesitated, then lifted his head and looked Sam straight in the eyes. “I'm not sorry I tried to help you. And while I may not take the best course of action...I'll never be sorry about trying to help you.”

Sam was silent for a moment, then his bleak expression cracked into a smile and he started laughing. Castiel blinked in confusion, not expecting that reaction.

“You're...not mad?”

“Oh no, I was mad,” Sam said, composing himself enough to speak. “Like _really_ mad. Especially when I saw your initials on it, and this morning when it actually was helpful in keeping me from freezing.” He chuckled. “But then when you walked up...somehow I couldn't bring myself to be mad anymore.”

He sighed softly, looking down at the mostly empty thermos cupped in his hands. “I don't know why exactly I was so mad really. I guess partially it seemed like a charity hand-out that I was determined to not need. But I think mostly...I'm just not used to people caring about me that much. I mean I know McDonalds doesn't have white-house level security, but that had to take some effort to sneak in there.”

“I didn't do half of my work on Friday so I would have an excuse to be at the restaurant,” Castiel confessed. “And I didn't expect Gary to be there.”

“No one expects Gary to be there,” Sam said. “But that's what I'm talking about. From my brother I would've expected that kind of stuff, but from a non-blood relation?” He shook his head.

“So...will you allow me to help you now?” Castiel asked hesitantly.

“I'm not in invalid you know,” Sam said. “I can take care of myself.”

“I—I didn't mean to imply, “ Castiel stammered.

Sam laughed and waved a hand. “I know, I know,” he said. “I was just messing with you. But to answer your question...yes. I will be more...accepting of your help in the future. For the most part.”

Castiel smiled. “Good,” he said, and they continued eating their soup, everything seemingly back to normal. 

 

#

 

December came, and with it an intensifying of the the wintertime spirit that had permeated the city since _before_ Thanksgiving. Castiel usually ignored the holidays, except for the various parties Gabriel dragged him to, but this year he found himself more into it, even switching out his usual blue tie for a more festive one on occasion. Sam was definitely into the holidays. He bought a pair of reindeer antlers somewhere and wore them at least once everyday. Castiel thought they were ridiculous but liked how they made Sam happy.

It was a week before Christmas, and Castiel headed down the street to meet Sam. He heard the singing halfway down the block and wasn't surprised in the least to see a sizable group gathered around the bench, singing along with Sam.

“ _Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful. And since we've no place to go. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_

_“It doesn't show signs of stopping, and I've bought some corn for popping. The lights are turned way down low. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_ ”

Sam—of course—had his antlers on, which jingled slightly as he played. Castiel laughed as he joined the group, not singing but he swayed along as they all wished for new snow.

“ _When we finally kiss goodnight, how I'll hate going out in the storm. But if you'll really hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm._

“ _The fire is slowly dying, and, my dear, we're still goodbying. But as long as you love me so. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow_!”

“Let it Snow!” was repeated a few more times before Sam closed the song. Everyone was laughing with smiles on their faces, some came by to drop some bills in the case before going on their way, others hung around in case of more songs. Castiel made his way through to Sam, whose smile brightened as he saw him. “Hey, there you are. You still have work?”

“Actually no,” Castiel said as Sam stood up, leading them a few feet away where it wasn't so choked with people. “I took off a week early.”

“That's cool,” Sam said with a grin. He notice the store-wrapped package in Castiel's hands. “What's that?”

“It's your present,” Castiel said, holding it out for Sam to take. “I wanted to make sure you got it before I left.”

“You're leaving?” Sam said, pausing as he took the gift. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” Castiel admitted. “Gabriel won this trip in some poker match and he's dragging me along. I'll be gone till January fourth.”

“So you're missing Christmas _and_ New Years?” Sam said. 

Castiel nodded. “I'm sorry, I only found out about it yesterday,” he apologized. “But please, open your present.”

Sam hesitated. “I didn't get you anything,” he admitted. “I thought I still had a week...”

“That's fine Sam,” Castiel said. “Please, go ahead.”

Sam took a breath and nodded, snapping the ribbon around the package and carefully opening the paper. He sucked in a breath as he saw what was inside. “Oh man Cass, this is awesome,” Sam said, unfurling the guitar strap, wondering back to set the paper on the bench. It was mostly black, with falling books of various colors embroidered down the center. “This is perfect Cass, thank you.”

“It's my pleasure,” Castiel said. “I hoped you would like it. But that's not all.”

Sam looked at Castiel. “Seriously?” Castiel smiled and nodded, gesturing back to the paper. Sam put the guitar strap over his shoulder and looked through the wrapping again, finding a small paper box inside. Carefully he pulled off the top and gasped when he saw what was inside.

Three guitar picks, settled on a foam holder. He picked up each one separately to examine it. The first one was black, a script S printed on one side and a W on the other. The next was a print of an artists interpretation of the Library of Alexandra, and the third was white with black symbols printed on both sides. “Oh my God Cass. I...are these custom made?”

Castiel nodded, “A friends of Gabriel's knows someone who does this professionally, so I was able to get exactly what I wanted. I hope they're to your liking. I've never seen you use one, but I didn't know if it was because of choice or lack.”

“Both, kinda,” Sam said. “I kept on losing them when I was younger so I decided they weren't worth it. I wont lose these though—definitely not.” He set the one he was holding back and picked up the third. “What's this one though?”

“It's Enochian—the language of the angels,” Castiel explained. “It reads songbringer.”

“Songbringer,” Sam repeated, looking the pick over again. “It's perfect. Thank you Cass.”

“You are most definitely welcome,” Castiel said with a smile. “I hate to leave so soon but I should go and finish packing.”

“Right, right, of course,” Sam said, setting his gifts down. “I'll—uhh—I'll see you when you get back I guess.” Castiel nodded and started to leave. “Wait, Cass.”

Castiel turned back around. Sam stepped up and wrapped his arms around him, pressing him to his chest in a tight hug. “I'm gonna miss you Cass...” he said, right next to his ear.

Castiel was surprised, but not uncomfortable. He wrapped his arms around Sam's back in return, leaning into his warmth. “I'll miss you too,” he said, voice softer then he meant it to be.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Castiel coughed slightly to clear his throat, which Sam took as a sign they were done. They disentangle awkwardly, then stood silently for a few moments, a foot of space between them. They looked at each other.

“Bye Cass,” Sam said. “See ya next year.”

“Bye Sam,” Castiel said. “Till next year.”

Castiel left for real this time, waving a hand in farewell as he made his way down the slush covered streets.

 


	2. Part Two

 

It was one of the warm days of early spring. The March winds had taken a break, and Castiel walked down the park path with ease. He still wore his trenchcoat, but he no longer wore three layers of jackets underneath it. He scanned the park, noting the small dots of people jogging or walking their dogs. He heard the faint sound of music in the distance and quickened his pace.

He rounded a curve in the path and spotted the group of musicians, gathering around a single bench. Several other park-goers were gathered in a loose semi-circle in front of them, singing and swaying along with the music. Castiel approached them and spied Sam in the middle of the bench, singing and strumming his guitar. He recognize the song as one Sam had played before—or was it one of the ones he suggested? He wasn't sure but he remembered it was one of the ones that had confused him.

_“There is something amiss. I am being insincere. In fact I don't mean any of this. Still my confession draws you near.”_

A lot of the musicians and spectators seem really into the song, singing along with the chorus as Castiel made his way along the side of the group, trying to get to the front, or at least close enough for Sam to notice him. 

_“—the Hook brings you back. I ain't tellin' you no lie. The Hook brings you back, on that you can rely._ ”

The song went into a musical interlude, showcasing one of the guitarist on harmonica. Sam happened to glance up during that time and caught a glimpse of Castiel. He smiled and nodded as Castiel gave a small wave. Content that Sam knew he was here, Castiel settled in to finish up the song. The next part was fast-paced and had almost a rap quality to it. It was the part that confused Castiel the most—probably because what words he could make out made no sense

“ _Suck it in suck it in suck it in like you're rin-tin tin or Anne Boleyn, make a desperate move or else you'll win, and then begin to see what you're doing to me this MTV is not for free it's so PC it's killing me so desperately I sing to thee of Love. Sure, but also rage and hate and pain and fear of self, and I can't keep these feeling on the shelf. I tried. Well no in fact I lied—“_ That was where Castiel usually lost it. There was something about song, balloons, and burning cities, so part of him wondered if he wanted to know, but he also though that this was the main point of the song.

_“Hear what I say I have a prayer to pray that's really all this was. When I'm feeling stuck and need a buck I don't rely on luck because.._.”

The chorus was sung again and then the song ended to the crowd's applause. The group quickly dispersed, some detoured to the front of the “stage' to drop some coins or bills into the donations hats before continuing their day. The musicians moved around as well, shaking hands and packing up their instruments as they chatted with the spectators and each other. Castiel hung around the outskirts as Sam chatted a little with another buskers, before waving farewell and jogging over. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “I enjoyed your song.”

“Thanks. I've always enjoyed playing it, and It's even better in a group,” Sam said as the two started to stroll down the path.

“I've never hear you play it before,” Castiel said.

“I don't usually sing when I'm sitting on street corners alone,” Sam said. “And the main reason I like that song is the lyrics, especially since the song is really about how people don't pay attention to song lyrics and their meanings. It'd seem almost like missing the point if I just played an instrumental version.”

Castiel nodded as they took a fork in the path that lead them towards the river bordering the park. The trees grew denser and the warm day dropped to a pleasant chill under the mottled shade. They chatted about music for awhile longer—Castiel found he had gained a deeper appreciation for the art since meeting Sam—then moved on to various incidentals that had happened during their day, people they saw in the park, and even the weather. They hardly talked about serious things during these “outside meet-ups”. After he had come back from the cruise, Castiel had made it a point to meet with Sam as much as possible. Sometimes that involved meeting up at the usual spot, then heading off to somewhere else together, or visiting Sam during his shift at McDonalds, but mostly it was meeting up like this on the weekends, when neither of them had work nor plans. Castiel found that meetings like this, and their usual visits on his way back from work were his favorite parts of the week.

They had wandered down some sort of bike path, pausing by the rail overlooking the river and commenting on the boats passing by and people on the other shore fishing.

“You know, I've never been fishing,” Sam commented.

“Neither have I,” Castiel said. Sam looked at him in surprise.

“Really? I thought everyone went fishing.”

“The two of us seem to prove that incorrect.”

Sam chuckled. “Point taken,” he said, looking back over the water. “I meant that, I know _my_ childhood was way too hectic to do a laid back hobby like fishing. I just figured other families would do bonding stuff like that.”

“I knew many families that fished growing up,” Castiel said. “Mine never seemed to have any interest, and that is one of the few things I shared with them.”

“Where'd you grow up?” Sam asked.

“Florida,” Castiel said. “Northern Florida, by the border with Georgia. I went to collage in Chicago though.” 

“I remember,” Sam said with a smile. “But wow, talk about a culture shock. Which do you prefer?”

“Florida, though I doubt I'll ever go back,” Castiel said. “I just prefer warm weather.”

“So you moved to New England,” Sam said with a laugh. “Makes sense.”

Castiel smiles but didn't comment. “Where did you grow up?” he asked.

“Here and there,” Sam said. “Longest we ever stayed in one place was like a month I think. I was born in Kansas though.”

“I've never been,” Castiel said.

“I'll have to take you sometime,” Sam said. “We can go fishing.” He chuckled and Castiel smiled as well.

They lapsed into companionable silence again, letting the river breeze go past them. “It's past lunchtime,” Castiel commented. “I believe I saw a bagel stand earlier closer to the entrance to the park. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah...we should go,” Sam said distractedly. He made no move to follow his words though, seeming to think something over. He set his jaw in determination and turned to face Castiel. “Hey...Cass...”

“Yes?” Castiel said, wondering what was coming next.

Sam shifted nervously, his earlier resolve seeming to disappear as he glanced down at the ground. “I...I just. I was thinking...that...maybe...we could go...out?...Some...time...”

“But we are out,” Castiel said, not following.

Sam sighed in frustration, pushing away from the rail and backing out onto the path. “No, not like this. Like out on a—”

There was a whirl of color and Castiel found himself looking at empty air. “Sam?” He looked down and gasped as he saw Sam and a previously unnoticed biker tangled up on the asphalt, both groaning as they sorted themselves out. “Sam! Are you alright?” Castiel asked, dropping to his knees to help push the bike off Sam,

Sam groaned, holding his head as he sat up with Castiel's help. “Yeah...I think so,” he said. He rolled his shoulder and winced, then looked over at the biker who seemed similarly dazed. “Are you alright?”

Before the biker could respond, there was the ring of a bell and a second biker skidded to a stop by the accident site. “Oh my goodness I'm so sorry,” the second biker said, hopping off her bike and pulling it off the path as much as possible. “I'm always telling him to watch where he's going.”

“No, it's fine,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck to work out the stiffness. “I shouldn't have been in the middle of the path.”

“Well _he_ should remember to ring his bell when passing other people,” the second biker said, giving her partner a look. “Did you even install the new one I got you?”

“I...” the first biker started.

“Of course not,” she interrupted. She sighed as she helped him up to his feet, Castiel moving to do similarly with Sam. “I'm really sorry.”

“It's fine, don’t worry about it,” Sam said, waving a dismissive hand. “No harm done.”

“Are you sure?” the second biker asked. Sam nodded. “Well, if you insist. Come on Pete, that's enough 'training' for one day.” She led her partner over to pick up the bikes.

“Hey, Sorry man,” Pete managed to say over his shoulder. Sam raised a hand in acknowledgment and watched as the two collected their bikes and rolled them back towards the main path.

“Well that was exciting,” Sam said, turning back towards Castiel. He winced though as he took a step, knee buckling a little. Castiel immediately moved as if to catch him, arm around his back.

“Are you sure you're fine?” Castiel asked. 

“Yes, I'm sure,” Sam insisted, rubbing at his arm where he skinned it against the asphalt. “I've been in worse accidents.”

“Maybe we should go by the hospital. Just to be sure,” Castiel suggested, worried.

“No!” Sam said, maybe a little to quickly. “No. No hospitals, I’m fine. Really.” He looked into Castiel's eyes, pleading with him not to press it. Castiel was still wary though, and more than a little curious about Sam's almost violent reaction to mentioning a hospital. He remember the musician had had a similar reaction last fall after the bar fight at Sullivan's

“Are you positive?” he checked.

“Yes,” Sam said. “Come on, let's go get those bagels.” he pulled away from Castiel and went to collect his guitar, still wincing a little but no longer threatening to fall again.

“What about what you were trying to ask me?” 

Sam stopped and hesitated. “I'll...I'll just ask it later,” he said. “Come on. After that, I really _am_ hungry.”

Castiel still wanted to know more, but he could tell Sam wasn't willing to share. Deciding to let it go he walked over to where Sam was.

“Alright then,” he said. “Let me take that though,” he said, reaching for the guitar case.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Cass. I can carry my own guitar case.”

“Humor me,” Castiel asked, with just the faintest hint of a smirk. Sam smiled as well and relented.

“Fine,” he said, handing the case over. “But be careful.” Castiel promised as he took the case, making sure to hold it securely. “Good. Now, where's this bagel stand?”

 

#

 

“I liked it and all, but the plot was really thin in some places,” Sam said a couple days later, talking about a book the both of them had read that week. “I don't think even the characters knew what they were doing there really.”

“Yes, but the action was well done, and the message interesting,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, yeah. 'Stronger together than apart' and the family bonds thing that's been going on through out the series,” Sam said. He sighed and tapped the paperback on his leg. “I dunno. Sometimes I wondering if this Edlund guy really know what he's doing.” He shrugged and tossed the book in his bag, settling his guitar in his lap. “But anyway, what have _you_ been doing lately?”

“Not much,” Castiel. “It's the middle of tax season is beginning soon, so the firm is a bit swamped.”

“Yeah, man spring must suck for you guys,” Sam said. He played a few errant chords. “Any—uhh—any plans? For like, you know...soon?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at the odd wording of the question, but didn't mention it. “No, not that I know of. Gabriel has a tendency to make plans without my knowledge, and then tell me about them as he dragging me along.”

Sam chuckled, but he still hadn't looked up. “So, umm. You, you might be free, like on the weekend. For something.”

Castiel titled his head to the side. “Perhaps,” he said. “Did you have something specfic in mind?”

“I—well—I might have thought...that...perhaps,” Sam said, grimacing at the awkwardness of his own words.

Castiel was definitely confused. “Sam, what do you want?”

Sam took a breath, hand wrapping around the neck of his guitar as if for support. Then he looked back at Castiel, face surprisingly serious. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on—”

“Cass! There you are. Leaving work early? All my lessons are finally sinking in huh?” 

Sam jumped slightly and looked over Castiel's shoulder at the interruption. Castiel just sighed and bit his lip at the familiar voice of his cousin.

“What are you doing?” he said, finally turning around.

Gabriel walked along the edge of the curb, a grin on his face and his hands in his pockets. “Looking for you. Got some news, but it can definitely wait till you formally introduce me to your friend,” he said.

Castiel glanced at Sam, who looked sorely confused. “You know him?” he asked.

Castiel sighed. Well, he had avoided it this long. “Yes...unfortunately.” Gabriel pounded his chest like he had been wounded. “This is my cousin Gabriel. Gabriel, this Sam.”

“So it is,” Gabriel said, eyes shining as he tilted forward on the curb to reach a hand out. “You don't know how long I've waited to actually meet you in person. I have heard _so_ much about you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam said as they shook hands. “Your and Cass's adventures seem...exciting.”

“See? Sam approves,” Gabriel said.

“He hasn’t heard about the worst ones,” Castiel said.

“I think you mean the best ones.”

“I think we have different definitions of 'the best'.”

“Man you're a buzz-kill,” Gabriel said. “Sam, tell Cass he's being a buzz-kill.”

“Uhh...”

“I apologize for him,” Castiel said, turning towards Sam. “Profusely.”

“Never apologize for greatness,” Gabriel said. “But Cass, really, I need to tell you about something.” Castiel didn't turn. “Cass.” Still nothing. “ _Caaaaass_. Come _on_.” he started to lightly punch him in the arm to get his attention. “Ca-ass. Guess what time of the month it is?”

Castiel looked confused for a moment, then he remembered and groaned slightly. “Theme night.”

“Theme night!” Gabriel repeated a lot more enthusiastically. “Hey, you should come too,” he added, turning towards Sam.

“Come to what?” Sam asked as Castiel got a panicked look on his face.

“Theme night!” Gabriel said. “This month it's pirate night at Candelstop this Wednesday. I'm already dragging Cass there, so you should tag along.”

“What's the Candelstop?” Sam asked.

“It's a tavern at the edge of the city on fifth.” Castiel said. “It does theme nights like this every month. Also one of Gabriel's friends is a manager there.”

“Which means reduced prices on drinks,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“You seem to make friends with a lot of people who serve alcohol,” Sam noted.

Gabriel laughed. “I like him,” he said to Castiel. “So, you in? There's gonna be an open mic after the hired band is done. You could bring your guitar and play something.”

“You don't have to though,” Castiel said quickly, not wanting Sam to feel pressured. “All anyone's going to do is get drunk and sing sea shanty's.”

“Do you know any sea shanty’s?” Gabriel asked.

“I know a few,” Sam said.

“Then you definitely need to come!” Gabriel said. “Plus, everyone else is _dying_ to meet you—Cass barely shuts up.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel snapped, cheeks reddening.

“What?” Gabriel said. “It's true. So what do you say?” he added to Sam.

Sam thought for a moment, then looked at Castiel. “What do you think?” he asked.

Castiel was surprised for a moment. “I-I...” he stammered. “The-the night would definitely be more enjoyable if you were there to join us...”

“Then I'll go,” Sam said, looking back up at Gabriel. 

“Success!” Gabriel said. “Cass can give you details, I have a meeting I have to get to. See ya tomorrow.”

“When did you get a job?” Castiel asked as Gabriel started down the street.

“Who says I never had one?” Gabriel just called back over his shoulder. Castiel just sighed and shook his head. He then glanced at Sam, who was watching him with an amused smile on his face. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No, of course not,” Sam said, shaking his head. He shifted his guitar to a more comfortable position and faced Castiel better. “So, details?”

“Oh, yes,” Castiel said. “I have a car, so I can pick you up.”

“Don't worry about that, I'll just take a bus,” Sam said, waving a dismissive hand. “So it's a tavern on fifth?”

Castiel nodded. “It's rather popular, and there's a bus stop nearby. Just get ff on the Johnson stop and it's just three blocks away. When you turn left.”

“Well then, that's easy,” Sam said, bringing his guitar around again. “And what time?”

“Night starts at eight, we usually plan to meet by eight-thirty.”

“Eight-thirty, see you then,” Sam said with a smile. “And in the meantime, any requests?”

 

#

 

“There has to be parking closer,” Gabriel insisted as Castiel pulled into a spot on the side of the street about two blocks away.

“It's a miracle we found a spot this close Gabriel. A little walking wont kill you,” Castiel said, shutting off the engine and pulling the keys out. Gabriel groaned over-dramatically and got out of the car, leaning against the door as he waited for Castiel.

“You should let me drive more,” he said, following as they headed towards Candelstop.

“I will, as soon as you get your license reinstated.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You forget to pay one, hundred dollar fine.

“It was three, and they weren't just a hundred,” Castiel said. “Plus your tags were expired.”

“Well thank you annoying DMV worker,” Gabriel said.

There was a shout behind then and they both turned to see Sam jogging up the sidewalk towards them. “Hey guys,” he said as he caught up. “Now I'm sure I’m in the right place.”

“Hello Sam,” Castiel said. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah. Hey, where's your guitar?” Gabriel asked.

“Oh, I left it at my place,” Sam said. “Didn't want it to get banged up on the bus.”

Castiel nodded in understanding and Gabriel just shrugged. “That's cool. You can just sing. Come on, we better go before Coyote drinks all the good stuff.”

They continued on, Castiel dropping a little behind to walk with Sam. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”

“Yeah it was fine,” Sam said. “Pretty uneventful. The guy next to me smelled kinda weird.” 

“Hey!” Gabriel exclaimed, drawing the conversation. He pointed to a restaurant across the street. “That's the steakhouse I was reading about before, I hear they have an _amazing_ T-bone with this special rub. Ugh, the reviews are _crazy_.”

“You guys have never been?” Sam said. “I thought you ate out all the time.”

“Not steakhouses,” Gabriel said with a look at Castiel. “And it's usually just take-out in one of our living rooms. Cass wont step foot in a steakhouse.”

“Really? Why not?” Sam asked.

“I don't find any point to it,” Castiel said.

“Cass here is a Vegetarian,” Gabriel explained when Sam was still confused.

“Vege...but...you ordered a burger,” Sam said. “I gave it too you.”

“Burgers are an exception,” Castiel said, a little embarrassed.

“And you can thank Jimmy for that little miracle,” Gabriel added.

“Jimmy?” Sam asked.

“My brother,” Castiel said.

“You have a brother?” Sam said in surprise. Castiel nodded. “Older or younger?”

“Younger by a minute twenty seconds.”

Sam paused for a moment. “Twins?”

“ _Identical_ twins,” Gabriel said. “It's scary how alike they look. Like mirror images I swear.”

“We do look rather similar” Castiel agreed. “But Gabriel is exaggerating a bit.”

“The only way I can tell them apart is the way they act,” Gabriel said. “You can't fake Cass's level of social cluelessness.”

“You really have a secret twin brother you never told me about?” Sam said.

“We...haven't spoken in awhile,” Castiel said. 

“Ah,” Sam just said, nodding.

“Of course good twins never willingly reveal the existence of their evil twin,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Jimmy's not evil,” Castiel said.

“And yet, which one of you filled my underwear drawer with shaving cream junior year?” Gabriel asked.

“In a prank war you started,” Castiel said. “Jimmy was just the only one who was able to beat you at your own game.”

“Once,” Gabriel said. “And it was on accident.”

Castiel looked at Sam and shook his head. Sam smiled and tried not to laugh.

“But enough inaccurately remembered tales of our youth, it's time to get our drink on!” Gabriel announced. Castiel and Sam looked up and saw the old-style sign over the entrance to the tavern. Dark wood, with a painted relief of a lit candle, and the words 'Candelstop' in yellow script underneath.

“Nice,” Sam said.

“Even nicer inside,” Gabriel said, grabbing Sam's arm. “Come on.”

Sam was jerked away, and instinctively reached out and grabbed onto Castiel's arm, dragging him along as well. The three stepped in, and Sam's mouth opened as he looked around the large tavern. “Whoa.”

The dark wood floors, tables, and intricately carved bar were always there. Heathered blue walls sat above the dark paneling that rose about waist high on an average man. Various paintings of Renaissance professions—Blacksmiths, Barber-surgeons, farmers, etc—sat in the swath of blue, and a large stage the dominated the back wall of the tavern. A smaller stage was off to the right—currently housing a large-scale model of an English privater ship, and a couple depressed steps separated a defined drinking/eating area that was scattered with tables, chairs, and blue-leather booths against the walls—from he small stage and main bar. Various pirate flags, ship wheels, and parrot pictures had been added for the night's theme. The staff, weaving around the tables delivering food and standing behind the bar mixing drinks, were all wearing some kind of pirate outfit, the only commonality being a red bandana somewhere on their person. It was already crowded, the light low and the lit torches set evenly around the wall providing most of the illumination.

“This is amazing,” Sam said, having to raise his voice over the din. “How did I not know about this?”

“It's one of those places,” Gabriel said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Most popular place you've never heard of. Come on, let's see if the others are here yet.”

The headed around the other side of the bar, down one of the depressed steps that led to a row of circular booths along the left hand wall of the tavern. A few were already filled, but only one groups noticed them walking up.

“Loki!” the trio chorused, as Gabriel stepped forward and threw his arms out in a dramatic gesture.

“Hey guys. Are we really the last ones here?” he said, sliding into the booth next to Coyote.

“Snooze you lose,” Coyote said, sliding one of the unclaimed beers in front of Gabriel. “But I see you brought a new friend.”

“Could this be the famous Sam we've heard so much about?” the Chinese women sitting on the other end of the booth asked, stirring her drink slowly.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Sam said, suddenly nervous with all eyes on him. 

“Yes,” Castiel said, remembering his manners. “Everyone, this is Sam. Sam, this is everyone—almost everyone. You've met Coyote before. Be careful, he's worse then Gabriel.”

“Hello again,” Coyote said. He was wearing a dark blue tank top tonight, which made his eyes look more gray then they had before. Also his tattoos were more noticeable as the lighting brought out the red tones in his skin more. “Don't worry, Loki's _much_ worse then I am.”

“Hah, you wish,” Gabriel said, shoving Coyote's shoulder.

Castiel ignored them. “Next to him is Brer. He's usually pretty calm, but watch out when he's drunk. Or high.”

“Hello Sam,” Brer said, long, bleached white hair brushing his shoulders. His eyes were a pale green, and he wore a mottled gray suit with a white undershirt. “It's a pleasure to finally be able to meet you.”

“Uh, yeah. Me to,” Sam said.

“And on the end is Daji,” Castiel said. “She can be rather...insistent.”

“A vast understatement,” Daji said, with a shake of her head, fox tail earrings swaying with the motion. Here eyes were smokey, with red eyeliner that caught the browns in her dark eyes. Shiny, jet back hair flowed over her shoulders and she wore a thin, red dress, red lipstick, and red nail polish. “But welcome Sam, It's nice to have you finally join us.”

“Are you going to give everyone a warning label?” Coyote asked.

“I find it almost a necessity when introducing new people to you all,” Castiel said as he slid into the booth next to Gabriel, Sam following and setting at the end.

“And when was the last time you introduced us to one of your friends?” Brer asked as Coyote passed around more drinks. Castiel looked away and muttered something under his breath.

“So Sam,” Daji said, taking a sip of her drink—something strong with a lime wedge on the rim. “I hear you're quite the skilled guitarist.”

“I, I'm okay I guess,” Sam said with a shrug. “I'm not the best or anything.”

“Where did you learn?” Brer asked.

“I'm self taught. Though I did take a couple classes in collage.”

“Collage boy,” Daji said, stirring her drink again. “Music major?”

“Pre-law,” Sam said. “Music's always been more of a hobby than a career.”

“So you're a lawyer,” Daji said. “Even better.”

“W-well I actually had to leave before I could get my law degree,” Sam admitted.

“Why's that?”

“F-family trouble,” Sam said, looking down at his half-drunk beer. Castiel started to wonder if he should intervene on Daji's questions, but Sam beat him too it.

“A-and what do you do Daji?” Sam asked, looking back up

“I work at an escort service,” she answered, folding her arms on the table and tilting her head to the side so the rest of her hair fell over one shoulder.

Sam nearly choked on his drink. “O-oh,” he said, staring at the table. “T-that's nice.”

Daji laughed. “Not that kind of escort service darling, but I'm flattered you assumed so,” she added, picking up her own drink.

“Better watch your boy,” Gabriel said under his breath to Castiel. “Before Daji gets another notch for her bedpost.”

Castiel gave him a subtle glare, but he did also desperately want to change the conversation. “So Brer, how's the bookstore doing?” he asked.

“Quite well actually,” Brer said happily. Daji flashed Castiel a knowing smile, but she didn't seem to be upset. “I'm a little surprised to be honest, but pleased. My Uncle is trying to get me to hire some help, but even with the increase in business I just...I don't feel comfortable. It's like paying people to come into your house and touch your stuff, you know?”

“You work at a bookstore?” Sam said, sitting up.

“Actually I own a bookstore,” Brer said. “We specialize in older editions of classics, but we do have a new book section. Our Ancient religions and Folklore section is one of the largest in the state.”

You could almost see the drool coming out of Sam's mouth. “That sounds amazing,” he said. “I'll have to come check it out.”

“Please do,” Brer said, an impresses smile on his face. “We're located in the historical part of the city, by the bay. Warren Books. I'll give you the complete tour.”

“T-thanks, I'm already looking forward to it,” Sam said, still grinning at just the _thought_ of the bookstore. Castiel smiled as well at his eagerness.

Coyote made an overly dramatic sigh and sat forward, seeming to shove himself into the center of attention. “You know what I'm bored of right now?” he asked to no one in particular.

“Books?” Brer guessed.

“Books,” Coyote confirmed. “Also, lack of beer. When are we getting another round?” 

“You can get more beer whenever you want Coyts,” Gabriel said.

Coyote twisted in his seat to look at him. “Really? 'Cause I'm kinda stuck in the middle here with your fat ass in the way.”

“I'm on the end, I can grab another round,” Sam offered.

“You don't have to trouble yourself for Coyote's every whine and whim,” Daji said. “His bark is much worse than his bite.”

“And I only bite if you ask me nicely,” Coyote added.

“It's fine,” Sam said, sliding out of the booth and standing up. “You guys let me crash your night out together, least I can do is do a beer run.” He turned and hesitated only when he noticed the tavern had gotten a lot more crowed and dark.

“I'll go with you,” Castiel said, standing up himself. “You'll need more than two hands to carry all the drinks.” 

“Alright,” Sam said, seeming to not notice the sly smirks the rest of the group were giving each other. Castiel did though. “We'll be right back.”

“I apologize for them,” Castiel said as they made their way to the bar.

“They're actually really fun,” Sam said with a chuckle. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“I, well, technically _Gabriel_...”

“Actually I wanted to ask about that,” Sam said after Castiel trailed off. “All you're other friends call him 'Loki' or 'Lokes'. What's that about?”

“Loki is the name Gabriel goes by around here,” Castiel said. “He changed his identity when he ran away from home in his teens.”

“Oh my God, why?” Sam asked, surprised.

“To be dramatic? Castiel offered. “Plus he's very adamant about not having any contact with the rest of the family, so it makes it easier to hide. He's become a master at hiding over the years because of it.”

“Wow,” Sam said as they finally reached the bar. “What made him run away from home?”

“Its a long story,” Castiel said with a sigh. “I'll probably tell it to you someday, but here's not really the best place.”

“Oh, okay,” Sam said, nodding. “Wait, so does he prefer Loki or?”

“He acts like he cares but he actually doesn't,” Castiel said. “I call him Gabriel because that's the name I knew him by growing up. He's never said anything specifically and everyone know who I'm talking about when I discuss him, so it's not the most secret of secret identities.”

Sam chuckled as he turned back to face the bar. Then his face dropped a little. “Umm, do you know what everyone's drinking? 'Cause I know I said beer but Daji definitely wasn't drinking beer, and Gabriel's and Brer's were different colors so what _kind_ of beer would I get and—”

“Sam,” Castiel said, placing a hand on his arm. “Its' not that complicated. They just want alcohol so they can get drunk.”

Sam let out a breath, then chuckled as he nodded. “Okay. I just know some people are really particular about their drinks, so I didn't want to accidentally mess up.”

Castiel kept the reassuring hand on Sam's arm. It was interesting, to see Sam so far out of his element. Somehow, with his projected confidence and eagerness to come along, Castiel had forgotten this was a man who would rather spend Friday nights in the library or at home playing his guitar than in a loud building with dancing and alcohol.

“We can always leave if you want,” Castiel said.

“What?” Sam said, looking over after giving the order to a bartender. At first he thought it was surprise, but then Castiel noticed the expecting look on his face and realized Sam hadn't heard him. He started to repeat the offer when a deep voice interrupted them.

“Well I was wondering where you were Castiel,” it said, catching the attention of them both. Sam looked, and found himself almost eye-level with a large, dark-skinned man, who looked back with dark brown eyes. “Who's your friend Castiel?” the man asked, still watching Sam.

“This is Sam,' Castiel said. “Gabriel convinced him to come along tonight.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sam said quickly, offering his hand. He noticed the man's pirate costume—red bandana over his head, black vest, black and white striped pants that were raggedly cut mid-calf—and the startling white-ink tattoo of a spiderweb that spread across his chest from the left side.

“Ah, so this is Sam,” the man said, smiling a brilliantly white smile as he took the offered hand. “It's quite a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, I've been getting that a lot tonight,” Sam said with a chuckle.

“Sam, this is Anansi, another friend,” Castiel said. “He's a manager here.”

“And working tonight,” Ananzi said. “Which is why I'm not at the table with the others. Glad you could make it though.”

“Me too, it's great,” Sam said. “I've only been here half an hour and already it's one of the best nights I've had.”

“Well I am definitely glad to hear that,” Ananzi said. “So I hear you're a musician.” Sam nodded. “Well then you should stick around for open mic after the band plays.”

“Yeah maybe,” Sam said. “I didn't bring my guitar though.”

“We have plenty you could borrow, or you could just sing.” Ananzi said. He jerked his chin back at the bar. “It seems your drinks are here though and I have some business to attend to, so I'll leave you two to get back.”

“Thanks. It was nice to meet you Ananzi,” Sam said as the manager started to move away.

“And you as well Sam. Don't forget to give us a song at the end of the night. And let everyone know I said hello and should stop by later.”

“We will,” Castiel promised as Sam scooped up a couple glasses of beer. Castiel took the rest and they headed back.

“Our heroes have returned,” Coyote said, throwing his arms up in the air as Sam and Castiel approached the booth. “And with an excellent choice to boot,” he added as they set the glasses on the table. “Okay. All in favor of making Sam our official beer-fetcher?”

“Aye,” the rest of the booth chimed in, raising half hands.

“Motion passed,” Coyote said, slapping the table in place of a gavel. “Congratulation on your new appointment Sam.”

“I just hope I can do it justice,” Sam said with a grin as they took their seats.

“Also, Ananzi said 'hi' and says he will try and come by later,” Castiel added.

“Of course 'Nanzi is working on our night out,” Gabriel said as he grabbed himself a new glass of beer. “Luckily, we have an excellent replacement.”

“They're even about the same size,” Coyote said.

“Sam has more hair though,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Bald people have more hair than 'Nanzi,” Coyote said.

“Ananzi also has a tattoo,” Brer pointed out.

“Right, Sam probably doesn't have a tattoo,” Gabriel said. Sam glanced to the side and Gabriel leaned in closer. “ _Riiight?_ ”

“Well...” Sam said, still looking away.

“Oh my God he does,” Coyote said in excitement. “Where is it? Tell us!”

“I, I mean, it's not,” Sam said, face reddening.

“What? It's not somewhere naughty is it?” Coyote said, leaning forwards and raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Sam definitely went red then. “No! It—it's just on my chest. It's not a big deal.”

“Then show us!” Gabriel said.

“Come on now darling, nobody likes a tease,” Daji said.

“I...” Sam hesitated, glancing over at Castiel, who was determined to stay neutral. He did already know what it was—if Gary was to be believed—but he had to admit he was curious to see exactly what it looked like. But he also didn't want to pressure Sam into doing something he didn't want to. Finally Sam sighed. “Fine,” he said, popping the top two buttons on his shirt and pulling back the right side to reveal his tattoo.

It was a green based black, faded just a little around the edges. A five-pointed star, surrounded by a circle and flame-like feathering around the circumference. At first glance it did seem like a pentagram, but Castiel could vaguely remember something more specific about that particular symbol.

“It's, it's an anti-possession tattoo, like for demons,” Sam explained as the group leaned in closer to examine it. “Me and my brother got them several years ago. I think he was just placating me though.”

“Trying to get rid of family demons?” Brer asked.

Sam looked relieved. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Pretty cool man,” Coyote said, sitting back. “I can give you the name of my guy if you want to get a touch-up on that. Or if you have something else you want to get done.”

“Oh, thanks,” Sam said, buttoning his shirt back up.

“Actually, you might be able to help us,” Gabriel said, leaning over and putting his arm around Castiel. “We've been trying to convince Cass here to get wings for _ages_.”

“Or a hamburger,” Coyote said. Everyone laughed.

The evening went smoothly. The conversation flowed and never stayed on one topic for very long. Sam of course was the new shiny-shiny, but didn't seem to mind the barrage of questions too much. At least not most of them. Ananzi did come by later, and most of the group made fun of his outfit. To Castiel's surprise, it was actually quite an enjoyable evening—even as the rest of the group got steadily drunker and drunker as the rounds kept coming. Only he and Sam seemed to not be drinking much. Castiel was usually the “designated driver” of the group, so he had switched away from alcoholic beverages early in the evening, but he noticed Sam was only halfway through his third beer, while the others were finishing their tenth.

“I like remembering night's out with friends,” Sam said when Castiel asked him about it. “Plus I'm not always the most pleasant drunk, so it's better to be safe than sorry.”

And so the night progressed, and after awhile people realized that the last band had played and the stage had been empty for half an hour before one of the workers went up there to announce it was now open mic time.

“Hey, it's your chance Music Man,” Daji said, reaching across the table to nudge Sam's hand. “Get on up there.”

“You know,” Sam said, fiddling with his glass nervously. “I'm actually having second thoughts about that.”

“Come on, you can't back out now,” Brer said. 

“Yeah, but I don't have my guitar with me,” Sam said, glancing around at the rowdy group of drunks that filed the tavern. “I just don't know guys.”

“You proooomised,” Coyote said, stretching out across the table like that would somehow help convince him. “Come oooonnn.”

“Help us out Cassy,” Gabriel said, nudging Castiel with surprising strength. “Tell him he has to.”

“I'm going to stay out of it,” Castiel said. “Sam can do what he wants.”

There was a chorus of complaints around the table but Castiel didn't acknowledge them. Sam gave him a small smile of thanks and Castiel returned it with a slight nod.

Not that this made the others give up, they just got more annoying about it. “Why don't I go get another round?” Sam offered after awhile, scooping up a couple empty pitchers. “Maybe something non-alcoholic,” he added to Castiel under his breath. Castiel chuckled and glanced over his shoulder, watching Sam weave his way though the crowed like he'd done it all his life.

“I'm going to go to the restroom,” Castiel said, standing up, not that any of the others were paying attention to him—they were more concerned with how many olives Brer could stuff in his mouth at the moment—but he didn't like to leave unannounced. He made his way through the crowed to the other side of the tavern, where the restrooms were. There was a bit of a line, but the only real obstacle was a small scuffle that had started up in the corner by the door. Castiel got past it easily and did his business.

He paused in front of the mirror on his way out. The mention of Jimmy earlier had rattled him a little, but he got through it. He examined his features, remembering watching someone with the exact same ones. Someone happier. He blinked and suddenly his face had a splatter of blood over it, a cut on his forehead bleeding sluggishly, bruises forming on his cheekbone and eyes wide in terror. He shook his head and when he glanced back it was his own face he was looking at. He wondered how much Jimmy's had changed.

Castiel let out a sigh and pushed away from the mirror, heading back out of the bathroom. This time however there were a lot more people packed around the opening of the small alcove, but none of them seemed to be trying to get in. There was lots of excited shouting, and the sound of instruments tuning up, then someone was singing.

“ _When I was just a little lad a-searching for my way,_ ”

Castiel's head snapped up as he recognized the voice. “Sam?” he said, trying to push through the crowd to get a view of the stage.

“ _I remember how I filled with pride to hear my father say._ ”

Castiel somehow managed to break through to where the crowed was thinner. He caught a glimpse of the table and saw that everyone was missing. He looked to the stage, where Sam was standing in the center, eyes closed and his hands around the microphone stand.

“ _Dreams are like a mainsail set high upon the mast, and you run before the free winds as long as dreams can last._ ”

Sam started what Castiel presumed was the chorus. The rest of the tavern joined in, even stomping and dropping to background vocalization on some parts.

“ _But my sails are blown and torn, been laid down wet._ [stomp' _Need all the mending that they can get.  
“No time to be a-tending; the wind's alive today. My sails are worn and weathered and I'm bound to go my way._ ”

Castiel was amazed, not only by how the crowed was moved, but by the song itself. He was still trying to figure out if it was because of just the song or because Sam was singing it.

_“Then I grew-up and went to school to learn that dreams ain't real. They taught me how to calculate and hide the things I feel. Well I know they didn't mean no harm, but this their learning said: 'A man's a man in this here world, and if you dream you're dead'.”_

The chorus started again, just the same as before, but this time Castiel saw something different in Sam. He opened his eyes for a moment as he was singing, looking over the audience, and Castiel though he saw a tear in his eye. There was also a waver in his voice that Castiel couldn't tell if it had always been there of if it had just started. He couldn't help but be reminded of the conversation they had had, back when they had first met.

“ _Well forty year's I've been livin' in my dreams. Reality confuses me with its many schemes._ “

Castiel pressed his lips together, watching Sam silently come apart onstage, and he understood—more then he knew he could.

“ _I'll take the weathered tapestry that's folded in my soul, and run before the moonlit winds with the love I know._ “

There were two more choruses before the song was over. When it was Sam stumbled away from the mic, breath not coming easy. The crowd erupted in applause, those who hadn't already been standing around the stage getting to their feet as Sam gave a halfhearted bow and made a beeline to the stairs.

Castiel immediately forced his way through the crowd to the stage entrance, where Gabriel and everyone else were already gathered, grabbing Sam yelling “congratulations” and “awesome job!” and “Wow I can't believe you can sing like that”. Sam just mummered 'thank you's and gave breathless smiles that the others were too drunk to notice never met his eyes.

Castiel managed to skirt the outside of the mob and place his arm on Sam's. The musician immediately looked over, sighing in relief as he saw Castiel. 

“Excellent job,” Castiel said.

“Thanks,” Sam said, trying his best to smile genuinely. He gave a laugh that seemed more exhausted than anything. “Didn't know they were gonna ask if I knew 'Blown and Torn'. Probably should have guessed it would come up at a pirate-themed thing.” He gave the laugh again.

Castiel wanted to say something, tell him he understood, but he didn't know if he was supposed to know. 

Before he could sort it out in his head though, their little group was broken apart by other mostly-drunk patron who wanted to congratulate Sam on his performance—and buy him a beer of course. Sam hesitated, but then he gave a small nod and let himself be dragged away amongst cheers and hollers. He glanced back as Castiel, who gave him an encouraging smile, standing there at the corner of the stage as everyone else filtered away.

 

Castiel tried to keep an eye on Sam the rest of the night. Half the tavern seemed to want to buy him a drink, and Sam kept taking them. Castiel was almost impressed with the speed in which he was knocking them back, but he also knew that it was a horrible idea that would definitely be regretted in the morning. He blamed himself. Yes, Gabriel invited him, but he could have stopped it, not let Sam be dragged in. He sighed and looked down at his rum and coke—something he deiced he desperately needed at the moment.

“Why do I keep on letting the people I care about get hurt,” he said to no one in particular.

 

The night was finally coming to a close, and Castiel couldn't have been more glad as the bar bell rang to signal last call. Most of the patrons left soon after they finished their last drinks and the taps were closed up. A few were too drunk to move, others too drunk to cooperate and had to be bodily be dragged out. Castiel wondered around the littered tavern, scanning for the pieces of his group. He caught sight of Coyote in a back corner, making out with another dude. He quickly walked away, figuring that meant he had a ride home already.

He made his way to the bar and felt a surge of relief as he saw Ananzi cleaning up behind it.

“Ananzi,” he said, taking a seat on one of the red bar-stools—trying to ignore the fact it was sticky with some unknown substance. “Have you seen the others? I found Coyote...”

“Yeah, Brer and Daji left awhile ago—whose apartment specifically I didn't ask. I know they got a cab though.”

Castiel nodded. “And my cousin?”

“Passed out back here,” Ananzi said, thumbing to the floor behind him. “Don't know how he suck behind the bar but he's fine. And your boy Sam is at the back table over there.”

Castiel twisted around to where Ananzi had nodded and saw Sam, slumped forward with his head resting on a tumbler, sitting at a table with three other people, all of them in some stage of unconsciousness. “Thanks,” he said to Ananzi as he slid off the stool and walked over.

Sam was slumped forward, muttering to himself as he rolled his head back and forth on the glass. One of his companions was sprawled out over most of the table, dead to the world, and a second had his head tilted back again the backrest and was giggling up at the ceiling. The third gave Castiel a suspicious glare as he approached the table, then went back to picking at a loose splinter on the table with his finger. Castiel tried to avoid most of them.

“Sam,” he called softly.

Sam looked up sleepily, a giant red circle on the middle of his forehead from the rim of the glass. His lips curled up in a smile. “Hey Cass,” he drawled. His head slumped to the side and his eyelids fluttered. “You know what I found out? Beer...tastes _really_ bad.”

“It's time to go Sam,” Castiel said. “The tavern is closing.”

Sam lifted his head back up and nodded like this made perfect sense. With Castiel's urging he started to get up, but stopped when something bumped into the table. “Oh?” he looked down at his lap. “Oh, hello there,” he said. There was a soft groan and a messily haired brunette lifted her head above table level, looking around like she didn't remember where she was. Sam scooted down the booth, somehow moved around the giggling guy, then stood up next to where Castiel was waiting. He gave a huge smile and started to take a step when suddenly he plunged towards the floor.

“Whoa, hold on there,” Castiel said, catching him before he hit the ground. Sam looked wide-eyed at the floor as he clung onto Castiel's arms and shoulder. “Just lean on me, alright?”

Sam nodded, but seemed to be intensely focused on this new 'walking' task before him. They made their way over to the bar, Sam only leaning on Castiel when he lost his balance. Fortunately he was stronger then he looked.

“Okay Sam,” Castiel said. “I just have to get Gabriel and then we can go.”

“Oh don't worry about Lokes,” Ananzi said. “I'll take care of him. You have your hand full of _one_ drunk. No need to shovel two on ya.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel said.

“Positive,” Ananzi said. “It's not the first time I've dealt with a drunk before. And it's definitely not the first time I've dealt with a drunk Loki. Who do you think was 'designated driver' before you came along?”

Castiel nodded. Sometimes he forgot things like that. “If you're sure.”

“I'm sure,” Ananzi said. “Go take care of Sam.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, readjusting Sam's arm over his shoulder. “I'll come by and pick him up in the morning.”

“Hey, you should fix your floor,” Sam said helpfully as they headed towards the door. “It keeps on moving around and I think it tried to attack me earlier.”

“I'll get right on that,” Ananzi promised. “Drive safe.”

Castiel led Sam outside and onto the sidewalk, wishing he had parked closer now. They got to the car without incident. Well, if Sam yelling at streetlights that flickered a little didn't count as incidents, and Castiel knew things could have been much worse. He dug the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the doors, managing to maneuver all six feet, four and-a-half inches of Sam into the passenger seat. He had to scoot the seat back so their would be room for his legs to not be folded up awkwardly, then he had to lean over Sam to get his seat-belt on. Sam just smiled and watched Castiel as he made sure he was safe.

“You're so good Cass,” he said as his friend straightened back up.

“Thank you,” Castiel said before closing the door and walking around.

“But no really,” Sam insisted, shifting so he was facing more towards Castiel as he climbed into the car. “You're like...the best friend _ever_. I mean I've never had a lot of friends, but even so I just know you’re the best.” Castiel glanced over at Sam as he put the key in the ignition, an almost worried look on his face, but he still didn't say anything.

“You're just...” Sam said, turning back and staring up at the roof of the car. “You're just so _cool_ Cass. And your eyes are really pretty, like, _really_ really pretty.” he said as Castiel pulled out onto the road. “They're like...man I dunno,” Sam muttered, head turned as to better look as Castiel's indescribable eyes. “They're like _blue_. Blue, blue. Not light blue, like the sky. But they're not really blue like the ocean. They're a deep blue...but not a _deep_ deep blue. Ya'know?” He tilted his head to the side he was genuinely curious. “They're...they're Cass blue. Yeah, Cass blue, that's good.” he nodded and smiled, pleased with himself that he had finally found an accurate description of Castiel's eyes.

Castiel looked at Sam out of the corner of his eyes, wondering if Sam was usually like this when he was drunk. He had said he was often an unpleasant drunk, but what did that mean exactly? It was in the middle of wondering this that Castiel realized he had no idea where Sam lived.

“Sam,” he said a after a few minutes deliberation. “I'm going to take you to my apartment, all right? I don't want to leave you by yourself tonight, so I'll just drive you back to your house in the morning.”

“Oh I don't live in a house,” Sam said, running a finger across Castiel's shoulder. “I've _never_ lived in a house. Well, not that I can remember anyway. I live in a Motel room.”

Castiel looked at Sam in surprise, then quickly back to the road as he realized he was still driving. “You live in a Motel?” he said. “For how long?”

“Always,” Sam said, rolling his head to the side as he stared out the windshield. A small frown appeared on his face. “Well, sometimes I squat in old abandoned houses, so really I do remember living in a house. Hey.” He tugged on Castiel's sleeve. “Why do you always wear that trenchcoat all the time?”

“Sam,” Castiel said. “Why do you live in a Motel? Why not get an apartment?”

“Oh I lived in an apartment once too,” Sam said. “It was even mine. I had it in collage” He leaned over and rested his head on Castiel's arm. “Had a girlfriend too. Lost 'em both. Hey, are you hungry? I'm hungry.”

“Don't change the subject Sam,” Castiel said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“What subject?” Sam asked, genuinely confused. “Man I could really go for some fries right now. Can we get some fries?” His gaze drifted out the side window. “Did you know that french fries aren't actually french? Weird, I know. I mean, why not name them after where they're actually from. And why fries, that's a weird word. Why don't we just call them place-they're-actually-from-potato-sticks. Humm, yeah I guess I see why they didn't do that.”

Castiel just sighed softly and shook his head as Sam continued on about the weird names of food. Really he should know better then to try and hold a coherent conversation with a drunk person by now.

Sam was asleep by the time they got to Castiel's apartment.

“Sam,” Castiel said, shaking his shoulder gently. “Sam we're here. Wake up.”

Sam woke with a start, bumping his head on the window as he instinctively tried to crawl away from whatever woke him. He looked around frantically, trying to figure out where he was. Then he caught sight of Castiel and relaxed. “Oh,” he said softly, sitting up but swaying slightly. “I...” his face paled and his brow furrowed. “E-excuse me,” he managed before jerking the door open and vomiting onto the street, relying mainly on his seat-belt to keep him in the car.

Castiel didn't say anything. Just quietly got out and waited till Sam was finished before moving to help him out of the car—careful to keep both of them out of the vomit. “Careful now, let's go,” he said, leading Sam up to the building.

Sam groaned as they walked up the stairs. “Sorry I made a mess,” he muttered, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. “I think I might've drank too much.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Castiel said as he used his key to get into the front lobby, then the stairwell. “You just need some rest and some fluids, then you'll be fine.”

Sam just nodded, groaning slightly as Castiel led him up to his apartment. “Did I tell you you're eyes are really pretty?” he asked, burying his face in Castiel's shoulder.

“You did,” Castiel said.

“Oh.”

Castiel opened the door to his apartment, taking Sam straight to the couch and having him sit down. He carefully took off his shoes, setting them to the side as Sam fell over onto his side, face splitting into a yawn. Castiel walked around to the hall and pulled a throw blanket out so Sam wouldn't get cold during the night.

“God your couch is comfy,” Sam mumbled into the armrest—already half-asleep—as Castiel walked back. “What's it stuffed with? Clouds?”

“Goodnight Sam,” Castiel just said as he laid the blanket over him. He turned leave when suddenly something tugged him back.

“Cass,” Sam breathed, eyes closed and a hand firmly fisted in Castiel's trenchcoat. “Don't…”

“Sam?” Castiel whispered, leaning closer. But Sam was gone, snoring softly with mind wandering around dreamland. Castiel smiled and moved away again, but Sam still had a grip on his coat and when he tried to go he was instinctively tugged closer. Castiel nearly lost his balance and had to brace himself against the back of the couch to keep from falling on top of the sleeping Sam, biting back a yelp as he did so. He looked down at the other man, taking a moment to study his face, so peaceful in sleep, and without those time-worn lines that Castiel hadn't realized were there till tonight while he was up on-stage. Carefully, he wriggled his way out of his trenchcoat and left it in Sam's hand, escaping to the kitchen to bring back a glass of water. When he came back he saw Sam had made quick work of the coat, wadding it into a makeshift pillow and had his face buried in it. Castiel set the water on the coffee table for the next morning and tugged the blanket over Sam's shoulders a little more securely. He paused, and almost absentmindedly brushed a lock of hair from Sam's face and tucked it behind his ear. Sam sighed softly and nestled closer to the trapped trenchcoat.

Castiel straightened as he realized what he was doing, flushing slightly. He shook his head, blaming it on the run and coke, and quickly walked around the couch and headed into his bedroom for the night.

 

#

 

Castiel called his work first the next morning, saying he had a family emergency and wouldn't be coming in that day. Then he got dressed and walked out into the main room, where he saw Sam was already sitting up, hair sticking out every-witch way and groaning softly.

“Morning Sam,” he said, walking around the couch.

Sam's head snapped up at the new voice and immediately his face scrunched up with pain. His groans got louder and he slowly leaned forward and buried his face in his knees. “God dammit Cass,” he muttered between his legs.

“Sorry,” Castiel said. He noticed the empty glass on the table and picked it up. “I'll get you a refill—you need your fluids.”

Sam nodded, but still groaned. “Ugh, I can barely _think_ about putting something in my stomach right now,” he said. Then looked up, face suddenly pale. “Uhh.”

“Down the hall—first on the right,” Castiel said as he headed into the open kitchen. Sam barely muttered 'thanks' before pushing himself off the couch and bolting to the bathroom. Castiel refilled the glass of water, then filled his electric kettle, setting it to boil. As it did he made some toast and fished some saltines out of the pantry. Setting those and some mugs on a tray, he dug through one of the drawers and pulled out a bottle of aspirin, shaking out a dose into his hand and setting it on the tray as well. He took out the toast, put a tea bag into each mug, then poured the now boiling water into them, then carried the entire tray back to the coffee table. He had just set it down as Sam came back from the bathroom, sitting back on the couch with a drained look on his face.

“I'm never drinking that much again,” he swore, eyes drifting down to what Castiel had brought.

Castiel picked up the glass of water and the aspirin, handing them to Sam. “Here, that should help with the headache.” he said as Sam took them gratefully. “And you should probably have something on your stomach, so I brought light foods.”

Sam hummed as he drained the glass and set it down. “What's the tea for?' he asked.

“Peppermint tea is good for an upset stomach. And tea in general is better on a sore stomach than plain water.”

Sam eyes the empty glass worriedly, then down at his stomach. He shrugged, then reached over and picked up a saltine, nibbling on the edge. “Always pegged you as more of a coffee guy,” he said.

“I do prefer it, but I enjoy a cup of tea every now and them. Mainly for medicinal purposes,” Castiel said.

Sam nodded—carefully—then sighed, lowering his cracker as he leaned back onto the couch. He then noticed he was laying on something familiar and sat up a little to pull out Castiel's trenchcoat. “Um,” he said, looking at the coat in his hands—that somehow managed to smell like Cass and his greasy hair at the same time—then at Castiel. “Did...I miss something last night? Why am I here again?”

“You were quite drunk last night and I didn't want to leave you alone. So I took you to my apartment and you fell asleep on my couch—in the process you became very attached to my jacket and wouldn't let go, so I let you keep it.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “So, I didn't...kiss you?” he asked. Castiel shook his head. “Oh,” Sam said. He looked almost disappointed, staring down at the jacket still in his hands. “I meant to.”

Castiel's eyes went wide. There was a moment of processing before Sam realized what he had said and slapped a hand over his mouth, slowly turning his head to look at Sam. “Oh my god,” he said through his fingers. “Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I...I must still be a little drunk.”

Castiel quickly shook his head. “It's fine, I understand,” he said.

Sam seemed to hesitate. Castiel wondered what he was going to say. He wondered what he _wanted_ him to say. Then Sam shook his head. “Sorry. I'm really sorry.”

“It's fine,” Castiel insisted. He cleared his throat and got to his feet awkwardly. “I-umm-I have to make a phone call. You may take a shower if you wish. There's fresh towels in the bathroom and I'll get you some freash clothes.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” Sam said, standing up as well. He coughed lightly and tossed his nibbled on saltine on the tray. “I'll—uhh—be right out.” He shuffled awkwardly to the bathroom and Castiel sighed as soon as he heard the door click shut. He headed back into the kitchen, where the phone base was, and quickly typed in Ananzi's number. It rang three time before he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Ananzi? It's Castiel.”

“Ah Castiel,” Ananzi said. “I thought you’d call soon. How's Sam?”

“Sam's fine,” Castiel said, glancing over his shoulder as the shower started running. “How's Gabriel?”

“Fine as well,” Ananzi said. He's asleep now, but a few hours ago was up and complaining about his headache and wondering why his mouth was so dry. I gave him some aspirin and Zzzquil to shut him up.”

“Good,” Castiel said. “I still have to get Sam home. Is it alright if I pick him up this afternoon?”

“Take all the time you need,” Ananzi said. “I have nothing to do toady.”

“Thank you Ananzi. For everything,” Castiel said. “I'll see you later.”

“Later. Bye.”

“Goodbye.” Castiel hung up the phone, then cast around the apartment for something to do. The shower was still running, and he remembered he promised Sam something clean to change into He quickly went into his room and riffled through his closet. He pulled out a pair of too-big sweat pants and a loose V-neck t-shit he didn't even remember purchasing. Folding them quickly, he carried them across the hall just as he heard the water turn off. suddenly scared, he froze in front of the door of a solid three minutes before knocking.

The door opened a crack and a rush of warm air came out into the hallway. “Yes?' Sam asked, peeking through.”

“I-I thought you may want some fresh clothes,” Castiel said, holding up his stack. “They may be a bit small...—but I can go ahead and put your clothes in the wash.”

“Oh, thanks,” Sam said. He opened the door wider and Castiel could see he was still wet from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. He gave a sharp intake of breath, yet somehow managed to keep a straight face as Sam took the clean clothes, then turned back to grab his old ones. “here. Thanks again,” he handed them off to Castiel.

“No problem,” Castiel said with a tense smile. Sam smiled back, then closed the door so he could get dressed. Castiel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looked down at the clothes in his arms, then remember he actually didn't own a washing machine and had to go down to the basement. With a small sigh he went to the linen closet, grabbed his thing of detergent, then hurried downstairs.

The washroom was empty this time of day and Castiel set it for a quick wash, going back upstairs as fast as he could. When he got back inside Sam was out of the bathroom and was standing in the middle of the room, looking confused. “Sorry,” Castiel said as he re-locked the door. Forgot the machines were downstairs.”

“That's cool. Thanks again,” Sam said. Castiel had been right, the clothes were small on him. The sweatpants only came down to his mid calf, and the v-neck stretched tight over his chest and exposed an inch to an inch and a half of his stomach depending on how much he moved. “And that shower actually really helped. My headache's almost gone.”

“I'm glad,” Castiel said. “Your clothes will be out of the wash in forty-five minutes. What would you like to do till then?”

Sam shrugged and gestured towards the living area. “Watch TV?”

So they did. Mostly the news, then they yelled at the crazy game shows that came on afterward, the entire time chatting about whatever came to mind and snacking on saltines. It wasn't until the third 'big win of the day' that either one remembered about Sam's clothes, so they headed down to the basement together and hung out on the unused washing machines while they dried. When they were done they headed back upstairs so Sam could change, and that was when Castiel actually looked at the time.

“It's past noon,” he said, when he heard Sam coming out of the bathroom. “Did you want some lunch?”

“Uhh, I guess,” Sam said with a shrug. “What do you have?”

Castiel checked his fridge, which was empty except for a half-carton of eggs, various condiments, and some grapes in the back. “Maybe take-out would be better.” he said, closing it slowly.

Sam laughed. “Not yet grocery day?” he said. “That's cool, I'm not that hungry.”

“We could go through the drive-through when I take you home.”

“Oh—heh—about that,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually, I was thinking I could just get back myself? I mean you've already done so much.”

“Sam, I really don't mind,” Castiel said.

“No, I really should just—”

“I know you're living at a Motel.”

There was a pause, and Sam slowly turned around. “What?”

Castiel sighed, afraid again that he had overstepped bounds, but also tired of all these half-secretes. “I know,” he said. “When you were drunk last night you mentioned it, and I don't care,” he mentioned when Sam started shaking his head. “It doesn't matter.”

Sam made a long sigh, still watching the floor. Then he chuckled. “Man, the things I say when I'm drunk huh?” he said, glancing up. Castiel smiled.

“I also have to go out and pick up Gabriel from Ananzi's,” Castiel said. “So it's no trouble at all to give you a ride back.”

Sam seemed to deliberate for a few more seconds, then shrugged. “Alright then,” he said. “When are we going?”

“Whenever you're ready,” Castiel said.

They left soon after that, stopping for lunch along the way (”just not McDonalds,” Sam said, making a face. “Anything but that”), then Castiel took Sam to the Motel he was staying at, pulling into a random spot and shutting off the engine.  
“Well, this is me,” Sam said, thumbing towards the building. “Thanks again, for everything. It was really cool hanging out with you today.”

“It was an enjoyable day,” Castiel agreed.

They sat awkwardly for a few minutes until Sam let out a breath and rubbed his legs. “Well, I won't keep you,” he said, opening the door and getting out. “Say hi to Gabriel for me.”

“I will,” Castiel promised. “Goodbye Sam.”

“See ya,” Sam said, hanging in the open door. He started to straighten up, when he suddenly looked in again. “Wait, Cass.”

Castiel stopped and looked back at Sam expectantly. “Yes?” he asked when Sam was silent.

Sam opened his mouth again, then closed it and shook his head. “Actually, It can wait. Go take care of your cousin.”

“Are you sure,” Castiel asked.

Sam nodded. “I'm sure. See ya Cass.” He closed the door and gave a final wave through the window, his smile almost sad.

Castiel turned the engine back on, waiting till he saw Sam get into his room before driving off and heading to Ananzi's house.

 

“Thank you again,” Castiel said as Gabriel went ahead to the car. “I know he can be a handful.”

“I know all his tricks, its no problem,” Ananzi said. “And how did things with Sam go?”

“All went well,” Castiel said. “He seemed to get over his hangover rather quickly, or compensates well. I dropped him off right before coming here and he seemed fine.”

“Well that's good,” Ananzi said. “I was a little worried about him when I saw how many drinks he was having, but I'm glad things worked out. Oh, next time you see him, tell him he did a great job onstage.”

“Thank you. I will,” Castiel promised as he headed down the stairs.

“And, if he's free nights and wants to make some extra cash, we're always looking for new acts,” Ananzi said.

“Oh. I will definitely pass that along. Thank you,” Castiel said.

“No problem. Drive safe,” Ananzi said. “And Loki, no hair of the dog alright? You're just delaying the inevitable.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Gabriel called back, adjusting the sunglasses he most likely stole from Ananzi's house. “See ya later Nanz,” he added as Castiel climbed in. Ananzi raised a hand in farewell and they drove off.

“So,” Gabriel said, looking at Castiel as they got on the main road. “Heard you had a guest last night. Anything fun happen?”

“Not what you're implying,” Castiel said.

“Come on Cass, you need to jump on that before he gets bored and wanders off.” Castiel gave him a disbelieving look. “What? I'm just saying.”

Castiel shook his head. “Sam and I are friends,” he said.

“Of course you are,” Gabriel said, eye roll hidden by his shades. “Did he at least say or do anything while he was drunk?”

Castiel thought back to the description of his eyes on the car ride, the refusal to let go of his coat, the impromptu confession that morning. He glanced away. “It doesn't matter if he did. He was drunk, he didn't mean it.”

Gabriel looked at him over his shades. “Cass, no. When someones on drugs, _then_ you don't believe what they say 'cause they're not themselves. Drunk people just have lowered inhibitions, they say stuff they're just too afraid to spit out when they're sober.” He put his glassed back and settled into his seat. “Drunk people are _hilarious_. You learn so much about them by what they say and who they talk about.”

Castiel was pointedly focusing on the road, but he did think about what Gabriel said, and what that might mean...

Then he shook his head, dismissing everything. It didn't matter anyway, nothing was going to happen.

 

#

 

About a week later, Castiel was walking back from work as usual, but instead of hearing music drifting down the street, he heard arguing.

“You won't _talk_ to me, that's why,”

“Why wont you just believe I'm fine and leave me alone?”

“Because I don't believe you _are_ fine and I'm not going to abandon you!”

Castiel approached the corner cautiously, hanging behind the edge of the office building to see what was happening. Sam was standing over the bench, angrily gathering his thing. An unfamiliar man in a leather jacket stood next to him, running his hand through short, brown hair. His back was turned towards Castiel, so he couldn't see his face, but his posture said he was annoyed. “Why wont you get that. Sam!” he yelled as Sam picked up his guitar case and started walking away. He reached out an arm to stop him. “Sam Li—”

Sam shrugged the mans hand off, darting across the street seconds before the light changed and made it impossible for the man to follow. The man stalked the sidewalk, looking for an opening and growling in frustration when there was none to be found. When Sam was completely out of sight he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and turned down the street towards where Castiel was watching.

There was a moment of panic as Castiel's first instinct was to hide and let the man pass. But as he got closer he felt a sudden surge of anger and instead stepped out directly in front of his path.

“What did you do to Sam,” he demanded, causing the man to look up in surprise.

“W-what?” he said, startled, managing to stop short of running into Castiel.

“Sam's my friend and I've never seen him act that way before,” Castiel said, glaring at the green-eyed stranger. “What did you do to him?”

The man just blinked. “You're a friend of Sam's?” he said, completely ignoring Castiel's question. “That's...that's great actually. How...how is he? What has he been doing?”

Castiel eyed the man suspiciously. “Why would that matter to you?” he said.

“What—why?” He laughed like it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. “I'm Dean, I'm his brother.”

Now it was Castiel's turn to look surprised. “Y-you're Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean said with a sigh. “I've been trying to find Sammy for awhile now. He's been on the run ever since our Dad died. Finally caught his trail and found him here, but...” He glanced over his shoulder at the street. “Think I'm gonna have to start fresh yet again.”

“W-why?'”Castiel asked.

“He tends to skip town whenever I catch up to him,” Dean said. He looked at Castiel. “If you do happen to see him before he leaves, can you let him know I'll be staying at the Holiday Inn in town for a few days. Just in case. I...I really need to talk to him.”

“I. I will,” Castiel said, still processing all this new information.

Dean gave him a tired smile. “Thanks bud,” he said, giving Castiel a pat on the shoulder as he passed by. “Oh.” Castiel turned around and saw Dean walking backwards. “I never caught your name.”

“It's Castiel.”

“Castiel,” Dean repeated with a nod. “Nice to meet you...despite the circumstances.” He turned back around, and then was gone.

“Nice...to meet you as well,” Castiel said, even though he knew he couldn't hear him. He turned around slowly, looking over to the empty stone bench where a few sheets of music fluttered in the light breeze, forgotten in Sam's rush. 

 

#

 

The next day, Castiel approached the corner with a modicum of hesitation, half-afraid Dean's warning would hold true. He was visibly relieved when he turned the corner and saw Sam sitting on the stone bench, guitar across his lap as he picked up the McDonalds cup he had nearby on the ground. He glanced up as Castiel approached and smiled his usual bright smile. “Hey Cass.”

“I met your brother yesterday,” Castiel said as he took his usual seat.

Sam's smile faltered. “Oh?' he said, a waver to his voice.

Castiel nodded. “I overheard the two of you arguing yesterday and ran into him after you left,” he said, opening his briefcase and pulling out the forgotten music.

“Thanks,” Sam said softly as he took the sheet, head bowed. Castiel almost regretted bringing it up but his curiosity wouldn't let him. “And I'm sorry you had to see that. Things are...tense between us.”

“I gathered,” Castiel said. If Sam outright said he didn't want to talk about it, Castiel would respect that, but he really did want an explanation. He wanted to somehow reconcile the Dean of Sam's childhood stories with the shouting match in the street he heard the other day. “He...he mentioned the death of your father?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “That's...well I'd say that's when things all started, but really it's been slowly building for years.”

“How long?” Castiel asked.

“Let's see, how old am I again?” He laughed., but it lacked humor. He shook his head. “No, I've always gotten along with Dean—as well as brothers growing up in close quarters do. My dad on the other hand, thing were always a bit...tense with us. And me leaving for Stanford didn't make things better.”

“Is that when he died?” Castiel asked.

Sam shook his head. “That happened after I came back—to find him actually. Dean came by my apartment asking for my help after dad had been missing for a few days. He'd been investigating this case he'd been working on a long time and Dean was worried something had happened.”

“Why didn't he just go to the police?” 

“Oh he did, but Dean can't just sit by and let someone else do all the work, so he started his own investigation, and apparently I was somehow crucial to the operation.” 

Sam grew quiet for a moment, temporally caught up in the past. He sighed and shook his head. “Lots of things happened while we were looking for Dad. Lot of people got hurt. Then we finally do find him but can't keep him in the same town for more then two minutes, and when we finally do...”

“And then you left,” Castiel said, filling in the rest.

“And then I left,” Sam confirmed. “Not _because_ really, but it was definitely the tipping point.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “I just...I just needed _out_. Some, some space. Time to think.” He paused for a few moments, then sat up suddenly, his entire demeanor doing a 180. “But, I don't want to dwell on depressing stuff right now. What's past is past. Dean's gone by now and things can continue on as normal.”

“Actually,” Castiel said. “When I spoke to him he asked me to let you know he was going to be staying at the Holiday Inn in town—in case I saw you before you left. He said he really needed to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Sam said, looking back at the sidewalk. “Well, okay then. That shouldn't be too hard to deal with.” He paused for a moment then looked at Castiel. “By the way, I had to change shifts at the restaurant, I I wont be able to meet you after work like this anymore—sorry.”

“It's all right, I understand,” Castiel said. “We'll just have to find out another meeting time. Perhaps I'll come by the restaurant more often.”

Sam smiled. “I'd like that.” He cleared his throat and picked his guitar up. “So, what shall we start with today?”

Castiel listened as Sam played, the song tending to be more upbeat and happy. He wondered what it was Sam was trying to avoid but didn't plan on asking. Sam was right, the past was past, and most of the time it should stay there.

 

#

 

Castiel was on one of his rare grocery trips, picking up essentials like soup and orange juice. He had shifted to avoid a loud pregnant women with three toddlers crawling around her cart who dominated the other side of the aisle. Trying to find an opening to grab a carton, he wasn't keeping an eye on where he was going and connected suddenly with another warm body.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Castiel said, righting things that had fallen in his basket. He looked up and his eye widened as he recognized the familiar face. “Dean.”

Dean looked just as surprised to see him. “Castiel, right?” he said. Castiel nodded. “Huh. Didn't expect to run into you again.”

“Nor I you,” Castiel said. “Has Sam contacted you?”

“What? No, I was just getting supplies before hitting the road,” he said, holding up the six-pack of beer as evidence. “Did you see Sam again or something?”

“Yes. The day after you arrived,” Castiel said, much to Dean's surprise. “I passed along you message, and it seemed like he was going to act on it...”

“I haven't heard from him—and I even asked the guy at the front desk to keep an eye out for him. Have you seen him since then?”

“No. He changed schedules at work recently, so I haven't met him as regularly.”

“Do you know where he works?” Castiel nodded. “Can you take me there?”

Castiel hesitated. “I...I don't know.:

“Castiel,” Dean said, moving closer. “I know we just met and all and you don't own me nothing, but I really need to talk to Sam. He's in a bad place but refuses to talk about it—which is really unlike him. Usually he's the one hounding me to talk about feelings and shit.” Dean bit back a sigh, shaking his head in frustration. “It worries me. It's been five years since Dad died and I've seen him three times since. Come on, help me help my brother.”

Castiel was torn. While he was surprised Sam hadn't contacted his brother, there much have been a reason. But avoiding like this did seem out of character for the Sam he knew, and if something was wrong then he wanted to do everything he could to help. But was this too far? Should he step back and let the brothers sort it out between themselves? Five years is a long time, if Sam was that determined would him helping like this really make any difference? He thought of Jimmy, on the other side of the glass, motionless in his hospital bed. He looked back up.

“I'll take you,” he said. “Meet me around six at the Capital One bank on Fawlker street—it's near there.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks man, I owe you one. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Castiel nodded, not saying anything as Dean went on his way, wondering if he was doing the right thing. 

 

#

 

The door chimed as Castiel walked in. Sam was behind the counter, chatting with a coworker Castiel didn't recognize, but glanced up when the bell rang, mouth immediately turning up into a smile. “Cass,” he said. “What a nice surprise. What's up?”

Castiel felt his stomach knot up as he stepped in. “W-well...I...” He looked down at he tiled floor.

Sam looked confused, then looked behind him as the bell rang again.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean said as the door swung shut.

Sam froze for a moment. “Dean,” he said, eyes wide. “What are you...” He looked at Castiel, who refused to meet his eye. “Cass?”

“I ran into him at the grocery store,” Castiel explained, fiddling with his coat sleeve. “He said you hadn't contacted him. I thought—”

“Sam, let's just talk about this,” Dean interrupted, stepping forward. Castiel was more then happy to scuttle to the side.

“I'm _working_ Dean.”

“You can take fifteen minutes, right?” he said, looking to Sam's coworker.

“I believe I should stay out of this,” the teenager said, stepping to the side.

“Ten minutes—that's all I'm asking,” Dean said.

Sam huffed. He looked at Castiel, who was staring at the tray return guilty, then sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Five minutes. You say your piece, then you go. Can you cover me Samandriel?” The teen nodded and Sam made his way around the counter. “And we're _not_ talking about Dad.”

“Five minutes, no Dad. Got it,” Dean said, following Sam to one of the corner seats.

Castiel made his way to the counter, watching as they took their seats. From across the restaurant, he could hear they were talking, but couldn’t actually hear what they were saying.

“So you're Cass?”

Castiel looked and saw Sam's coworker—Samandriel--arms crossed and propped up on the counter, leaning towards him. “Oh, um, yes. I am.”

“Sam talks about you a lot,” Samandriel said. “It'd be annoying if it wasn't so subtle. I don't even know if he realizes it.” he titled his head as Castiel glanced away, embarrassed. “I thought you'd be taller.”

Castiel looked back at him. “I-I'm average height.”

“Yeah...I suppose when you spend enough time around Sam your relative height scale gets skewed.”

“O-okay,” Castiel said, unsure how to respond. He looked around the restaurant, trying to look anywhere except where Sam and Dean were sitting. It didn't work.

“Are you and Sam a thing?” Samandriel asked, getting Castiel attention back rather quickly. “He never gave me a straight answer about that.”

“Wh-what?” Castiel said. “W-why do you ask?”

“Is that a no?” Samandriel asked. Castiel floundered, but the teenager seemed to take the lack of response as an answer. “You're kind of a local legend here. Half the staff isn't sure you even exist.” 

“I've eaten here before,” Castiel said, looking confused. “Twice.” Samandriel just shrugged.

The door rang again and both looked over to see Gary walk in, backpack over one shoulder. He looked confused for a moment until he recognized Castiel, then gasped in surprise, rushing up to the counter.

“I _told_ you Samandriel. I _told_ you,” he said, leaning across the counter to wave his finger in the other teens face. Samandriel just rolled his eyes. Gary turned towards Castiel. “Cass! It's so cool you're here again! Are you visiting Sam? Do you need to get in the locker room again?”

“N-no,” Castiel said, glancing over at Samandriel who just raised an eyebrow. “I-I thought you worked a different shift.”

“Oh yeah I did, but I switched with someone,” Gary said.

“The day after Sam did,” Samandriel added.

“What a coincidence right?”

Samandriel looked up to the ceiling, shaking his head and Castiel wasn't sure exactly what was going on.

“Hey, who's that guy over there talking to Sam?” Gary asked, looking over at the corner table.

“I believe it's his brother,” Samandriel said. “They used the word “dad” like it was the same person for both of them.”

“It's his brother,” Castiel confirmed.

“Whoa. He mentioned he had a brother but it seemed like they had a falling out and hated each other now,” Gary said, unabashedly staring.

“It's a little more complicated then that,” Castiel said. Both teenagers immediately turned towards him.

“You know the story?” Samandriel said.

“Oh God you have to tell us,” Gary said, pressing closer. “Sam _never_ talks about it, even when we ask him.”

“He's more tight-lipped about it then your guyses relationship status,” Samandriel said.

“I don't know the whole story,” Castiel said, instinctively moving back. “But I know enough the know nothing about it could be summed up that simply without being inaccurate.”

“Well do you know what they're talking about?” Gary said, looking back over.

“Not dad, that's all I got,” Samandriel said, watching as well. “Or at least that were the rules.”

“Well whatever it is, Sam doesn't look to happy.”

Castiel looked over as well. Sam was definitely tense—shoulder up, arms crossed on the table, leg bouncing up and down. Dean was more relaxed, arms opened and out on the table, but he was also alert. Castiel wondered if it was left over from years of following their father around on cases, or if it had more to do with the holster and gun hidden underneath the tell-tale bulge in his jacket.

“We should get closer,” Gary whispered loudly. Castiel was horrified at the notion but Samandriel nodded and the two started moving down the counter. 

“No, we should leave them alone to work things out,” Castiel said, following only as to not have to raise his voice. “They're having a private conversation.”

“If they want to have a private conversation they shouldn't have it in a public restaurant,” Samandriel said.

“Come on, it'll be suspicious if it's just us two,” Gary said. “Don't you want to know what they're saying?”

Castiel couldn't really say _no_ without lying about it, but still tried to protest. It all became moot however as Sam suddenly stood up.

“Well I'll leave you to deal with your _family_ then,” he said coldly. “Your five minutes are up anyway.”

“Sam. Sam!” Dean called after him, but Sam ignored him, striding quickly towards the back of the restaurant. They heard the sound of the back door opening, then closing with a slam.

Dean sighed and slumped in his seat. He glanced up at the trio and suddenly Samandriel and Gary were very busy with other things. Dean just shook his head.

Castiel walked over cautiously. “Didn't go well?” he ventured.

“Oh it went fine—up until I got that stupid phone call.” He sighed and checked his phone—which was buzzing again—the sighed before just shutting it off. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before suddenly cursing and slamming his fist down on the table, causing Castiel as well as a few other patrons to jump. “Dammit! Why the hell wont he just talk to me?”

“Maybe he needs time,” Castiel suggested.

“I've given him time,” Dean said. “Five years worth.” He scratched his chest absentmindedly and Castiel noticed the edge of a scar, just underneath his collarbone. “I know he's upset about Dad's death but how does he thing _I_ feel?”

Dean sighed and stood up, looking defeated. “Thanks Cass,” he said, placing a hand on the other mans shoulder. “You tried, and that means a lot to me, even if it didn't amount to anything.” With that, he slipped his hands into his pockets and made his way to the door. Castiel paused for a moment, then turned around.

“I don't think you should give up,” he said. Dean paused and turned back around. “He's your brother, don't just leave him. Please.”

Dean looked confused for a moment, then his jaw set and he got a new determined look on his face. He gave Castiel a nod. “Believe me, I wont,” he promised, then turned and left.

Castiel turned back towards the counter—where Gary and Samandriel had obviously been listening the entire time.

“I'm—uhh--I'm gonna go get dressed,” Gary said, pointing towards the locket room and making his not-so-subtle exit.

Castiel sighed softly, looking towards the back door.

“Go,” Samandriel said, catching Castiel's attention. “I'll cover.”

Castiel nodded in thanks and headed down the hall and out the door. The spring air was on the chilly side today, especially in the shade of the back lot. The concrete areas was grimy and smelled faintly like tobacco smoke. Castiel looked around and caught sight of Sam, sitting on the other side of the dumpster on a cracked parking block and looking down at the grass. Castiel walked over, feet crunching on the scattered pebbles.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” Sam replied, not looking up.

Castiel sighed. “I'm sorry Sam. I never meant to betray your trust or anything. Dean—”

“It's fine Cass,” Sam said. “I just thought...never-mind.

Castiel felt his heart break a little at the sadness in Sam's voice. “What is it Sam?” he asked, taking a seat next to him.

Sam sighed, tugging at a dried out weed. “All I ever do is hurt people,” he said softly. “Everyone I care about, everyone I love. I'll hurt you eventually I'm sure.”

“I don't see how,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “You're not cruel Sam.”

“I don't do it on purpose,” Sam said. “It's just bad Ju-Ju. I've got darkness following my every move and nothing I can do will ever change that.” He rubbed a circle on his chest over where his tattoo was. “I got Dean hurt and Dad killed—the only people I thought were safe from me. It's a miracle you're still in one piece.”

“Sam,” Castiel said, placing a hand on Sam's arm. “You're not bad luck.”

“Our house burned down when I was six months old, starting in the nursery where my mom and I were. She got killed, I got out. Honestly I don't know know what else _to_ call it.”

“A series of unfortunate events,” Castiel said.

Sam paused, then looked up at Castiel. “Are you calling me a Baudelaire?”

“The reference was not my attention, but now that you've pointed it out, yes.” 

Sam laughed, and Castiel smiled at the sound. “Okay, okay,” Sam said, sitting up and stretching his arms out over his head. “Mission accomplished, I'm not sulking anymore. And I'm not mad at you.”

“Really?”

“Well I was at first,” Sam admitted. “A little. But your intentions were good, and I get that. I shouldn't be mad at you 'cause Dean and I's relationship is a mess.” He leaned over and nudged Castiel's shoulder. “Plus, I promised I'd be more accepting of your help now, and that's all you were really trying to do.”

Castiel smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Sam got to his feet and held a hand out to help Castiel up. “Now lets get back inside. This uniform was not made for the outdoors and I shouldn't leave Samandriel hanging.”

Castiel nodded and took the offered hand, letting Sam pull him to his feet, and the two headed back inside the restaurant. 

 

#

 

A new music shop opened up in old town, a few blocks away from Castiel's apartment building. When he mentioned it to Sam the musician immediately wanted to go, so Castiel took some of his accrued vacation time and the two went together on a late Thursday morning. Sam was excited the entire short trip, but as Castiel was pulling into a parking spot he suddenly stopped, staring at something across the street.

“Uhh, you know, maybe we should try and find somewhere closer,” he suggested.

Castiel looked at him. “We're only a block away, is something wrong?” 

“N-no, I just...” Sam continued to watch across the street. Castiel leaned forwards to look out the passenger window. The only thing of note to him was a rather large, 60s style muscle car parked on the other side of the street. It was a little out of place among the sleek sedans and smart cars parked to either side of it, but there was nothing particularly menacing about it.

“What is it?” Castiel asked.

Sam took a breath and forced himself to look straight ahead. “Dean's here. I saw the Impala parked over there.”

Castiel looked back over at the muscle car. Ah. “Do you...want to come by another day?”

Sam seemed to think for a moment, but shook his head. “No. He's probably no where around her right now. It's fine.”

“If you're sure,” Castiel double checked.

“Yes. I'm not going to stop my life just because I'm afraid of running into my brother,” Sam said, determined as he opened the passenger door and stepped out. “Come on, where's this store again?” 

 

Music 'N Things seemed to be heaven on Earth for Sam. He wondered up and down the narrow halls, gazing in amazement at all the different instruments and accessories. Castiel followed behind, happy because Sam was happy. The owners were a father and son team who were more then happy to let Sam explore and tryout all the instruments. The shop was surprisingly busy for the time of day. But the apparently quality and friendly atmosphere made that not much of a mystery. As Sam was drooling over a display of audio and recording equipment, Castiel happened to glance out the window and stiffened.

Dean was passing outside, not paying attention to the store, but paused suddenly directly in front of it. Castiel was wondering if he should draw Sam's attention, when he realized Dean was waiting for someone, gesturing for them to hurry up. A sturdy man, with a dark beard, a Greek fisherman hat and a navy pea-coat walked up, stopping next to Dean. Castiel definitely didn't recognize him, but Dean obviously did.

“Hey, what are you—” Sam started, coming up behind Castiel. Castiel turned to look at him, frozen in surprise, eyes slightly widened.

“Do you recognize the other guy?” Castiel asked. Sam shook his head.

“No...but I have a guess,” Sam said flatly. He turned around sharply and wondered down the aisle and Castiel followed, unsure of what he should do.

“Do you want to leave? Or hide?” he asked.

“I think I'm gonna buy a new E string, since mine's about to give,” Sam said, pulling the pack from the shelf and continuing down the aisle. “And maybe pick out a new cabo.”

“So you're fine?” Castiel made sure.

“Of course,” Sam said, glancing over his shoulder and gesturing to the window with his pack of strings. “He didn't see me or anything, and he's obviously busy. He has no idea I'm here.”

Castiel nodded, then froze. “Unless...”

“Unless what?” Sam asked, crouching down to get a better look at the cabos.

“Unless he recognizes my car.”

 

Castiel skittered out of the music shop and saw Dean striding back up the street double-time, the other man right behind him. “Castiel,” Dean called, raising his arm as he jogged the last few steps. “Thought I saw your car. What's up.”

“Just...doing some shopping. My-my cousins birthday is in a few days,” Castiel lied.

“Oh, well tell him I said happy birthday,” Dean said, slipping his hands in his pockets. He glanced at his companion. “Oh, right. This is Benny, may partner. Benny, this is Castiel, a friend of Sam's.”

Benny nodded as he extended a hand, which Castiel took. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a think Louisiana accent.

“You as well,” Castiel replied, stepping back. He noticed the pistol strapped to his hip and how he subtly shifted the edge of his coat to cover it back up.

“So Cass,” Dean said. “Have you seen Sam recently?”

Castiel hesitated, but before he could decide what to say the door to the music shop opened and Sam stepped out, bag of purchases in hand. 

“Dean,” he said.

“Sam,” Dean said. “I'm...a little surprised to see you here.” He glanced at Castiel then back at Sam. “This is Benny...but I'm sure you guessed that.”

“It's nice to finally meet you Sam,” Benny said. Sam didn't respond.

An awkward silence followed that Castiel decided to break by confirming some of his suspicions. “Former military?” he asked. Benny glanced over.

“Navy,” he replied. “A few years out of collage. Then I went back home and joined the force. That's when I met Dean actually. Cases crossed and PI work seemed to be getting a lot more done then due process.”

“Right,” Castiel said. “What branch?”

“Narcotics.” 

“Narcotics huh,” Sam said, looking at Dean.

Dean gave him a look. “Sam,” he said warningly. “You know it's not that.”

Sam shook his head and started down the sidewalk towards the car. “All I know is I have work in forty-five minutes and I better not see you there.”

“Sam,” Dean said, grabbing Sam's arm but Sam shook his off.

“No Dean,” he said, turning around just long enough to talk to his brother. “Not now.”

“Then _when_ Sam?” Dean asked, but Sam ignored him, making his way back to the car. Dean waved his fist in frustration, but having nothing to connect with he dropped it to the side and forced his hand to relax. He sighed and turned back to where Benny and Castiel were standing. “God _dammit_!” 

“If he's being this determined maybe you should give him space brother,” Benny suggested.

“I've given him space!” Dean yelled, calming down when a couple other walkers on the other side of the street turned to look. “I know..” he continued, more controlled. “I know he goes on these Dali Llama cleansing desert trips or whatever sometimes, but _five years_? I gave him two before I started outright looking for him.” He turned to Castiel. “Can you convince him? Somehow?”

Castiel shook his head. “I don't know. I want to help but I don't want to push too hard.”

“Whatever plan you come up with I'll go along,” Dean said. “But I think he'll be more likely to listen if you're there.”

Castiel was surprised, but before he could ask a phone rang, which Benny picked up, walking a few steps away to answer it. “Hello?...Yes Ma'me, we are...yes Ma'me, he's here...” He turned around and held the phone out towards Dean. “It's Miss Delina.”

Dean sighed. “Our client,” he told Castiel, pinching the bridge of his nose. He deliberated for a moment, then let out a breath. “I have to take this,” he said, taking the phone and following Benny. “But if you think of something just leave a note at the front desk, room 218. Time place and I'm there.” 

Castiel nodded as Dean left, talking authoritatively over the phone. He turned around and headed back to the car, where Sam was waiting, leaning against the back door and staring off into space. Castiel sighed softly as he sighed up. “I think you should listen to Dean.”

Sam looked up at him with a look of pure shock. “Why would you say that?” he said. “I though you were on my side?”

“I _am_ on your side,” Castiel said, moving forward. “I just don't think you should push away your brother.”

Sam shook his head, fist covering his mouth and looking over the top of the car, having none of it. “You don't understand.”

Castiel sighed and looked down at the sidewalk. “Dean's had a heart transplant—I saw the scar. Who knows what—”

“I know.”

Castiel looked up. “You what?”

“I know Dean's had a heart transplant,” Sam said, still looking over the top of the car. “I'm the reason he needed one.” 

Castiel stared at him in shock until Sam finally sighed and shifted his weight on the car. “It was back when we were still doing PI work together. After we had found Dad, but during one of his walkabouts. Dean and I were following this dangerous suspect into an abandoned basement in this town that had flooded the week previous. Dean was on point but I was supposed to be watching his back.” He paused, staring at his reflection in the top of the car. “It was dark, and the sound of water dripping from the rafters was everywhere, but I still...I still should have seen that the wires had gotten exposed...” He trailed off. Castiel could fill in the rest. 

“The shock triggered a heart attack, and the whole ordeal left his heart pretty much fried,” Sam continued, after a minutes pause. “Doctor gave him four, six months tops. Unless of course, he got a transplant.”

“And luckily he did,” Castiel said.

“Yeah,” Sam said in a sigh. “Luckily. But that was when I realized it was time for me to leave. Not mess up things any further.” He blew a lock of hair out of his face and stared at it for a few moments

Castiel looked down, threading his fingers together and leaning back against his car. “I understand,” he said quietly, drawing Sam's attention. Castiel paused, scratching at his coat with his pinky. “I...While I was in California working as a bodyguard...I god on the bad side of some bad people. Jimmy was...in town for god-knows what reason. They saw him, thought he was me, and, well.” He shrugged. “He payed the price.”

“Oh my God Cass, that's horrible,” Sam said. “Is he...”

“He survived, barely,” Castiel said. “He lives in Chicago now with his wife and daughter. Sells TV ads last I heard.”

“Well that's something at least,” Sam said, turning and resting his elbows on the roof of the car.

Castiel nodded. “It's something.” He looked at Sam. “But I do understand Sam. I pushed my family away, I cut people I loved off because I failed them when It mattered most. Because I was the reason they got hurt. But Dean's _here_ Sam. He's alive, and he obliviously doesn't blame you. And I wouldn't either. Based on what you told me what happened was an accident, it could've happened to anyone.”

“What happened with your brother wasn't your fault either,” Sam said. “It wasn't your fault, just mistaken identity.”

Even before Sam finished speaking Castiel was shaking his head. “There were a lot of things I could've done better back then.” Castiel said. “But that doesn't matter right now anyway. This is about you, and the brother standing on your doorstep.”

Sam sighed. “Fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Fine, I'll try—for you.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you.” They paused, looking at each other for a long moment. Sam seemed to shift closer.

Castiel suddenly looked away, clearing his throat. “We, we should get you back before you're late for work. I'll give you a ride.”

“Oh, right. Right,” Sam said, straightening up. “Of course. Thanks.”

They got into the car and drove off, the ride a little more awkward then it should have been.

 

“Sam's right you know,” Gabriel said, dropping a bowl of hideous-looking pasta in front of Castiel that night. “It's not your fault what happened to Jimmy.”

“That doesn't matter right now,” Castiel said, rubbing his temple. “What matters is figuring out a way for Sam and Dean to actually sit down and talk.”

“Want some help?” Gabriel offered, spinning his chair around and straddling the back. “I've got a few ideas handy.”

“Thanks but I think I can handle this without any of your cockamamie schemes,” Castiel said flatly.

“Ouch,” Gabriel said, placing a hand over his chest. “So, what do you got up your sleeve mister plan-master?”

 

#

 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel all sat in one of the back booths at Sullivan's, since it was “neutral ground” and not as ambushy as a surprise visit at work (which Dean had already apologized for several times that evening). Castiel stayed as referee/mediator/moral support. He sat on the end of the booth, Sam next to him on the inside and Dean in the booth across from them. SO far, the conversation was painfully lacking, but the night was still young.

“Here's your drinks,” Coyote said, coming up to the booth and setting down three beers in the center. “Can I get you boys anything else.

“No, thank you,” Castiel said after Sam and Dean stayed silent. Coyote caught his eyes and silently asked how it was going. Castiel gave the barest of shakes.

“Well alright then,” Coyote said. “Just holler if you change your minds.” and walked off.

Dean watched as he left, looking at Castiel of the briefest of seconds before grabbing one of the beers and popping the top off on the edge of the table. “So this is a pretty dive bar Cass. How'd you find it?” he asked.

“My cousin is fond of it,” Castiel said. “Honestly I find it hard to see the appeal.”

“Beer's cheap,” Dean said, before taking a swig. He nearly choked and pounded the table a few times before composing himself, looking at the bottle offend.

“And that's why,” Castiel said, smiling a little as Dean pushed the bottle to the side. “And that's the bottled stuff. Don't even think about what's on tap.”

“I'm trying not to,” Dean said. He sniffed and looked around the rest of the bar. “Oh hey, pool. Wanna go a round Sammy? For old times sake?”

Sam and Castiel exchanged worried looks and Coyote straightened from where he was eavesdropping a few table over.

“I, umm. Maybe another time,” Sam said.

“Alright then,” Dean said, giving the two of them a suspicious look. “If you insist.” He sighed and pulled his beer back in front of him for lack of anything else to do. “So...how have you been.”

“'Round the same as when you asked me that two days ago,” Sam said.

Dean slammed his hand on the table and sat back. “Well sorry Sam I am _trying_ , but you're not making it easy. Why do you insist on making this difficult?”

“I'm making it difficult?” Sam said, leaning forward. “You're the one who insists on meeting. None of this would be an issue if you just would _listen_ to me.”

“Hey, you agreed to this too.”

“Yeah, mostly to get you off my flipping back. Get it through your think skull Dean. I. Am. _Fine_.”

“You're not _fine_ Sam.”

“And who gave you the right to say whether I'm fine or not? Who dies and made you _God_.”

“Who wants food,” Castiel said suddenly. Sam and Dean both turned to look at him. “Beer's bad but the foods pretty good.” He looked between the confused brothers faces and nodded. “I'll get food. Be right back.” And made his escape.

He heard a “Cass, wait!” behind him but pretended not to hear. Instead he signaled Coyote and made his way to the end of the bar where the doors to the kitchen were. He took a deep breath, tapping nervously on the counter as he waited. Finally, Coyote came around, setting his tray of half-empty drinks down. “Still no better?” he guessed.”

“I have no idea what to do,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “They finally start saying more then two words to each other and immediately go into yelling. I can't. I really can't.” he glances back up at the booth, where he catches Dean looking over at him. Sam looked over his shoulder as well and catches Castiel's eye, but quickly turned back around to say something to his brother. “And now I'm pretty sure Dean suspects.”

“That doesn't matter,” Coyote said, waving a hand dismissively. “The whole “neutral ground” facade is pretty pointless anyway. He did say he would do anything.”

“I just...” Castiel said, shaking his head. “I feel like I'm fixing something that I have no business trying to fix.”

“You're helping a friend,” Coyote said with a shrug. “Nothing wrong with that. And to be honest, I really do hope they work out whatever problem they have going on. Would not mind seeing Dean around more—if you know what I mean.” Castiel gave him a disproving look. “What? You have the younger one, why can't I have the older one?”

“I don't...we're not...” Castiel sighed and shook his head, deciding to not deal with this right now.

“So what is there beef with each other anyway?' Coyote asked, leaning against the counter and looking at the booth.

“There's something specific that I haven't quite figured out yet,” Castiel said, scrubbing his face with his hands. “But it has to do with their father death and Dean's heart transplant—both of which Sam blames himself for.”

“Back up a moment, Dean's _what_?”

Castiel shook his head. “Long story.” he sighed. “I just don't know what I should do.”

“Well...you came here as moderator, so moderate!” Coyote said. “Introduce a neutral topic. Make neutral conversation.”

“Things must e bad if I'm the one who has to facilitate conversation,” Castiel mummered.

“Hey, you're the one who signed up for the gig,” Coyote said. “And Sam's worth it, right?” 

“Of course,” Castiel said without a second thought. He took a breath and let it out slowly. “I suppose I should get back...Before I forget, can you send some burger and fries all around?”

“Burgers and fries, coming up,” Coyote said. “Now go get 'em. Moderate the hell out of that brotherly reunion.”

Castiel rolled his eyes but made his way back up to the booth and took his seat next to Sam. “Food's coming,” he said.

“Cool,” Sam said, running his finger around the mouth of his bottle. Both he and Dean were rather quiet, and seemed to have been for awhile. Castiel let out a long breath, beer sitting in front of him unopened. They were going to need something stronger to get through the evening it seemed.

“Dean,” he said. The the older brother looked up. “You've obviously continued in the PI business How is that going?”

“Umm, pretty well, I suppose,” Dean said, straightening up a little. “Benny and I are working a case right now actually, which is why he followed me down. Missing persons. Our clients niece got snatched from the front yard when she went back inside to turn off the oven.”

“OH. That has to be difficult,” Castiel said.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. It's been five years since it happened, so all the trails are pretty cold. And, well, if you've ever watched a cop show you know chances are slim. But it's good to help the family find some closure, you know?”

Castiel nodded. Sam looked down at his beer, picking at the label. “Did...did you re-interview all the original suspects?”

Dean looked over at Sam. “Yeah,” he said, like it was obvious. Castiel wondered how they would get FBI files on an open case like that but decided not to ask. “That was one of the first things we did when we got hired.”

“Okay, just checking,” Sam said, still staring at his beer. He started picking at the label with a little more force. “Was...How old was the girl?”

“Twelve,” Dean said. “Why?” 

Sam shrugged. “Just...maybe you should do a Goggle image search with a projected age photo. Or, cross-reference her interests with liked Facebook pages.” He glanced up and saw Dean's confused expression. “She's seventeen by now, most seventeen year olds have a Facebook account.”

“Not kidnapped seventeen year olds,” Dean said. 

Sam gave him a “really?” look. “She was grabbed in broad daylight from under her aunts nose right? That age and no screams? Either someone who was very quick to silence her meaning there's no point in looking at this point, or it was someone she recognized. Friend or family member most likely. Someone close who would care about her safety and well being.”

“Yeah but social media?” Dean said. “No ones that stupid.”

“Not immediately after of course,” Sam said. Probably not under her real name either. Definitely on private, maybe even a no pictures rule, which is why you check liked pages.”

Dean sat back, considering everything Sam said. “And even f I'm wrong, what's the harm in looking?” Sam added. “Sure you burn a few hours slogging through likes on Facebook, but at least you're doing something instead of chasing ghosts.”

“You know...” Dean said, after a few moments. “You may be onto something Sammy. There was this odd neighbor that moved away a few months before the abduction. Went by the new house but couldn't find anything, but something just seemed off to me.”

Sam waved his arm in a “there you go” gesture and sat back, taking another drink from his bottle. “Not all cases can be solved by kicking in doors.”

Dean seemed to be about to retort, but Coyote swooped in carrying a tray of food. “Here you boys are!” he said, setting the plates down in front of everyone. “Can I get you boys anything else?”

“Glass of whiskey maybe?” Dean said. “Make it a double, I need to get the taste of this beer out of my mouth.”

“I'll get right on that,” Coyote said, then looked to Sam and Castiel. “You two.”

“We're good, thanks,” Sam said, holding his hand up. Coyote nodded and headed off to the bar to get Dean's drink.

“That was rather amazing Sam,” Castiel said. “What you did earlier.”

Sam shrugged. “it's a job I did for years. All the tricks tends to stick with you.”

“Sammy's always had a knack for the kidnapping cases,” Dean said. “Betcha he calls into the anonymous tip line every time he sees an Amber Alert, telling the FBI exactly how they should run the case. 

Sam tucked and rolled his eyes, but didn't deny anything. Coyote strolled back up, setting Dean's drink down with a napkin tucked underneath. “Here you are, enjoy.”

“Thanks,” Dean said as Coyote walked away. He started to pick up the drink, but set it back down when he noticed something odd on the napkin. Picking that up instead, he showed a series of seven numbers scrawled across it with black pen. Sam laughed and Castiel just shook his head.

“You don't even have to try anymore, do you,” Sam said as Dean dropped the napkin on the table. He sighed and picked up his drink, shaking his head.

“Cass, tell your friend I'm flattered, but no thanks,” Dean said. “Plus, I'm taken.”

Castiel looked a bit startled and started to protest, but Dean gave him a look and he shut up. Suppose it was rather silly to try and hide something from a PI.

“So you're still with Lisa?” Sam said. “I had been wondering.”

“Yeah, I'm still over there,” Dean said, setting his drink back down. “Not sure how much longer it's gonna last though. She was supportive about me going back on the road, but things are getting a bit tense.”

Sam nodded sympathetically. “And hows Ben?”

That put a smile on Dean's face. “Ben's great,” he said. “Kid grows up so fast. I promised I'd teach him how to work on engines when I got back.”

Sam smiled as well, but Castiel was a little confused. “Who's Ben?” he asked.

“Lisa's kid,” Dean said. “Not mine though, if that's what you're wondering. Sometimes seems like it though.” he ducked his head and fiddled with his glass a little before lifting it back up. “But enough sappy stories. What about you Cass? Any family?”

Castiel shrugged. “Some,” he said. “One of my cousins is in the area, but I've mentioned that before. My brother's in Chicago with his family, and I suppose everyone else is still in Florida.”

“You guys close?” Dean asked.

“Not anymore,” Castiel said. “Lost touch after school. Different collages. Different states for work.”

“Where were you?”

“California.”

“He was a bodyguard,” Sam interjected.

“A bodyguard?” Dean said amused. “You?”

“I am quite capable in a conflict,” Castiel said.

“Definitely is,” Sam said. “You should see him. Dropped a guy with one hit.”

Dean looked at the two of them. “You guys have seriously been in a fight together? Already?”

“We've known each other what, six months?” Sam said, “That's a reasonable amount of time to be in a bar fight or two with someone.”

“Bar fight? What, was he defending your honor or something?” 

“Dean!” Sam said, rolling his eyes, while Castiel was slightly frightened.

“Wait wait wait, let me guess,” Dean said. “Sammy here got caught hustling pool and Cass had to come bail him out.”

“Sam actually held his own quite well and disabled all of his attackers,” Castiel said.

“But you were hustling pool,” Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes Dean, if it makes you happy, I was hustling pool.”

“Hah, I knew it,” Dean said, a huge grin on his face. Sam just chuckled and shook his head and Castiel smiles, pleased that things seemed to be going well. 

Then Dean's phone rang.

Sam's face suddenly hardened, Castiel looked anxious, and Dean glanced down at his phone before shaking his head and deciding to ignore it. “I should've turned it off before I cam in anyway.”

“Oh no Dean, by all means, take it,” Sam said, gesturing to the device. “Might be important.”

“ _This_ is what's important,” Dean said.

“Oh are you sure?” Sam said with mock concentration. “Wouldn't want _Benny_ to worry about why you're not picking up now, would we?”

“You...” Dean gave him a look. “Is this about how he used to work in Narcotics?”

“I just find it an interesting choice in partners, that's all. Considering your old one.”

“Would you rather me be out there alone?” Dean asked. “The narcotics thing is pure coincidence. I didn't even plan on having a new partner.”

“Oh but Dad said never to go it alone—and you always do what Dad says.”

“Sam..”

“No no, I totally understand it though,” Sam said. “It's a comforting trait in a new partner, especially after the last one. Bet he hasn't killed anyone either, after you had someone who left so many dead bodies in their wake.”

“Dammit Sam!” Dean yelled, slamming his fist on the table. “Dad was the one who pulled the trigger, not you! You didn't kill him anymore then I did, okay?”

Everything grew suddenly quiet until Sam stood up. “I have to go tot he bathroom,” he said, voice level. Castiel quickly moved to let him pass, and watched as he went around the half-wall over to where the restroom were. Sam out of sight, Castiel turned back towards Dean, who was looking down in his glass of whiskey.

“You're father shot himself,” Castiel said, slowly sitting back down.

Dean sighed. “There was an accident and I ended up needing a heart transplant,” he said. “Aside from the donor list already being a mile long I also have one of the rarer blood types. We'd already found out through previous scrape-up that Dad and I had the same type and...well.” He shrugged, tenting his fingers as he continued staring into his drink. “Guess he thought he was making up for all the times he thought he let us down. Honestly I was surprised when he came to the hospital, couldn't keep the man in one spot for more then two minutes usually.” He sighed and sat back in the booth.

“And that's why Sam left,” Castiel said.

“Yeah. He blames himself for the accident, and by extension Dad too,” Dean said. “I've tried to talk to him, but he refuses to listen to me.”

“Why is that?”

“Hell if I know,” Dean said, shaking his head and downing the last of his whiskey. “Sam...Sammy never really warmed up to the brand of PI work Dad did, all the moving around and stuff. God, I remember one time he came home from Kindergarten and threw s huge fit when Dad said he couldn't have a pet like all the other kids in his class. Dad tried to shield him from the dangerous stuff, but Sammy was persistent and didn't like being left behind all the time. He was so determined to learn pool—and be good at it—so that he could help out more.” he chuckled and shook his head, sitting back up and leaning forwards, but looking down that the grain in the wood table. “All the poor kid wanted though really was a normal life. I remember there was this one time we had to go bail Dad out of jail after he got a little too rough with a suspect. Poor kid was so embarrassed. Wouldn't meet anyone's eye. Didn't talk to Dad for a week.”

He let out a small sigh, scrubbed at his face, then let his hands fall back to the table, staring off at some part of the bar behind Castiel. “Only time the kid looked actually, legitimately happy was when he was playing. He was always musical, sang along with the radio even though he complained about mine and Dad's music tastes. First time he picked up a guitar was at this pawn shop where Dad was trying to get some information from the owner. The look on his face...” A smile tugged at his lips at the memory. “Nearly crushed me when I got him his own for his sixteenth birthday. Played that thing incessantly. Dad wasn't too thrilled, but he wasn't going to deny him something that made him that happy.” His smile faltered. “Only thing besides a bag of clothes he took with him to Stanford. One of the few things he had left when he left Stanford too. Apartment fire” Dean added when Castiel got a confused look on his face. “Some idiot in the building started a grease fire and tried to put it out with water. His girlfriend was caught inside too. Nearly died himself trying to get her out.” Castiel's eyes flickered down at this new information.

Dean stretched his arms out in front of him, groaning slightly. “Sometimes, while we were out on the road. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and find him on the hood of the Impala, just playing.” He took a long breath and let it out though his nose. “When I woke up for the first time after my transplant, first thing I saw was that guitar, sitting in the seat next to my bed, Sam nowhere to be found. I didn't see him for three years after that—partially 'cause I was pissed, I admit. And because I figured he just...needed time. Plus Sam is very hard to find when he set's his mind to it.” he let out a sigh and spread out his hand in a 'that's that' gesture.

“That must have been very difficult—for both of you,” Castiel said. 

“Well I'm not gonna say it was easy,” Dean said. “Quit PI work for about a year and a half, till I just couldn't sit back anymore. Small at first, local stuff. Then I ran into Benny and we partnered up, cases started getting bigger. Then I realized it didn't matter how I felt anymore, I wasn't going to leave my little brother out on his own anymore, and that's when I started actively searching for Sam.” 

“But Sam didn't want to be found,” Castiel said.

“No he did not,” Dean agreed. “And on second thought, shouldn't he be back by now?”

Castiel sat up and looked around. “Yes, he should.” He stood up as Dean shook his head. “I'll go check on him.”

“If you want,” Dean said, making no move to join. Castiel headed back to where the restroom where, pushing the door open. 

“Sam?” he called. But the room was empty, and when he stepped in he realized the window on the back wall was slightly ajar. He turned back around and hurried to the booth. “Sam's gone.”

“Honestly?” Dean said with a sigh. “I'm not surprised.”

“I'll go check outside. Perhaps he hasn't gone too far,” Castiel said.

“Cass,” Dean called after him, but Castiel just headed out the back door into the cool, spring night and onto the parking lot. 

“Sam?” he called out. There was no response. Castiel sighed and walked down the rows of cars. When he got to his, he found Sam perched on the hood, knees tucked up and leaning back against the windshield, looking up at the sky. After his initial surprised, Castiel cleared his throat, looking up at the stars that managed to peek through the glow of the city in the distance.

“I was the one who found him,” Sam said after several minutes of silence. Castiel looked at him, but Sam's eyes were still trained on the sky. “I supposed my first clue should have been that were were in the same room together and not arguing. Or maybe the look on his face when the doctors told him Dean needed a transplant. Definitely when he was talking about how proud of me he was.” Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “We—we were in this unused patient room, down the hall from Dean's. Dad had caused a scene in the waiting room earlier and the doctors didn't want him upsetting any of the other families.” Sam voice had started cracking slightly. Castiel climbed up on the hood as well, settling into the space between Sam and the edge. The musician leaned into the new warmth as he fought the wetness creeping into the corner of his eyes. “He sent me out to get coffee, there was a machine at the end of the hall. I—I don't even know how he got it _into_ the hospital...I was on my way back when I heard the shot.”

Sam dropped his chin, tears leaking out down his cheeks. Castiel said nothing as he waited for Sam to collect himself. “I was the first one in the room. I, I was there when he actually died, but even then it was too late. Even in a building _full_ of doctors.” He laughed, then shook his head as he hurriedly wiped away the tears from his face. “Dad wasn't an organ donor, so I had to sign the papers to let them harvest his heart. Plus I had to sign the consent forms to let them do the transplant. Felt like I had to read a novel in five minutes there were so many papers.” He took another shaky breath, fresh tears rolling down his face. He started to talk again but it came out more like a sob and he buried his face in Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel shifted to accommodate the much larger man now clinging to him, shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. He wrapped his arms around him, rubbing small circles in his back as he rested his chin on the top of his head. This went on for several minutes, Castiel giving silent comfort as Sam let everything out.

“I had never felt so alone in my life,” Sam whispered, voice raw when he finally spoke again. “Not all those times I was left behind at the Motel, not when I left for Stanford, not when Dean and I lost contact after my first two years.” His fingers clutched Castiel's coat even tighter, his forehead resting against his shoulder. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I don't even want to feel that abandoned again.”

“Don't worry,” Castiel said, hand resting in Sam's hair. “You won't, I'll make sure of it.”

Sam looked up, eyes red but also surprised, and tentatively hopeful. “Really?” he croaked.

Castiel nodded. “I'm not going anywhere Sam,” he said. “I'll always be right here, whenever you need me.”

Sam smiled and pulled Castiel into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he breathed against Castiel's neck.

Castiel returned the embrace, eyes drifting shut momentarily. “Of course,” he replied.

They stayed like that for awhile before eventually pulled apart. Sam chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head, but Castiel just kept his gentle smile. “Are you ready to go back in?”

Sam took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, then let it out in a long huff. “Yeah, I think I'm good now.” He slid off the hood and Castiel followed suit. “Just...don't mention to Dean I was crying, okay?”

“I won't,” Castiel promised with an amused smile. He started back to the door, when suddenly Sam grabbed his arm. Castiel stopped. Sam's hand hesitated around his wrist, then slowly slipped into his hand and laced their fingers together, holding on tightly. Castiel nodded slightly, and the two fell into step as they pushed through the back door of Sullivan's. They headed back to their booth, but Dean was nowhere to be found. Sam looked confused, while Castiel glanced around almost anxiously.

“Coyote,” he called, catching sight of the bartender standing next to a recently emptied table. He headed over, letting go of his and Sam's locked hands. “Coyote, where did Dean go?”

“He left like two minutes ago,” Coyote said. “Tried to at least stall him but he was having none of it.” He glanced behind Castiel to Sam. “Everything okay?” 

Castiel sighed. “Yeah...as much as could be expected I suppose.” He let out a puff of air and ran a hand through his hair. “This was not how I expected things to go.”

“Yeah, well. You can lead a horse to water,” Coyote said with a shrug as he cleared off the table. :He did pay for everything though. So, silver lining. Do you want me to bring over some boxes to go, or are you going to hang around some more?”

“I don't know, I'll ask Sam, but don't worry about the boxes,” Castiel said, starting to turn back towards the booth. “And thank you for helping, I know you don't like working the floor.”

“Eh don't worry about it,” Coyote said, waving a hand. “Anything for a friend. Plus it's more plausible to 'accidentally' trip and drop a drink in someones lap then to 'accidentally' splash one in someones face across a bar.”

Castiel smiled a little and nodded, then turned and headed back to where Sam was standing. “he left a few minutes ago. I'm sorry.”

Sam just scoffed. “Honestly I'm not that surprised,” he said, looking down at the empty table.

“Would you like to stay awhile or go to the Motel?” Castiel asked.

“Oh Motel, definitely,” Sam said. “After tonight I need some sleep, ASAP.”

Castiel nodded. “And...what are you doing tomorrow?”

Sam looked confused for a moment. “Nothing special,” he said. “Work. Might go to the park if it doesn't rain, play some.”

“Mind if I join you? I still have mandatory vacation days to use up,” Castiel said.

Sam was a little shocked at the question, but then smiled. “Yeah, yeah I'd like that. That'd be great. It's been awhile since we just spent the day together, huh?”

Castiel nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” He then gestured to the door. “Should I pick you up in the morning?”

“Sounds great,” Sam said, smile still on his face as the two walked back out to Castiel's car. 

 

#

 

Castiel and Sam were leaving McDonalds, waving to Gary and Samandriel who were headed in the opposite direction, when Gabriel ran up.

“Sam! And Cass. Great! I'm surprisingly not unsurprised.”

“What?” Castiel said.

Gabriel shook his head. “Doesn't matter. We need to get to Candelstop ASAP.”

“What happened?” Sam said. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything's _wonderful_ ,” Gabriel said. “In fact, something _amazing_ happened.”

Sam and Castiel exchanged looks. “I hesitate to ask,” Castiel said, turning back to Gabriel.

“'Nanzi _finally_ listened to my advice and installed a karaoke machine!” Gabriel said. “Granted it's on the small stage—but it's there! Tonight's the first official Candelstop Karaoke Night and we have to go break it in. Come on guys!”

“Are the other going to be there?” Sam asked.

“Ananzi will be 'cause he's working. Coyote unfortunately is working as well, so he wont. Daji said she had a thing and Brer said he's having trouble with the grad students he hired, so he's stuck at the shop. They'll be at the next one though—if I have anything to say about it.” Gabriel said. “Come on Sam, you have to come—everyone _loved_ you last time—and if you bring your guitar...” He pressed his hands together in a hopeful gesture. 

Sam shrugged and looked at Castiel. “I'm game if you are. I'd have to change...” He looked down at his uniform. “And my guitar's at my room.”

“Well then let's _go_ ,” Gabriel said, ushering them both. “To Sam's! Where's your car Cass?”

“Over there,” Castiel said. “Wait, how'd you get here?”

“I ran,” Gabriel said. “Come _on_. We wanna get there before six.”

“Why six?” Castiel said stopping, suddenly suspicious.

“Uhh, 'cause that's when it starts?” Gabriel said. “Come _on_!”

Castiel finally relented and let Gabriel rush him into his own car, taking the driver's side while Sam took the passenger seat. Gabriel slid into the back, bouncing up and down in the middle until Castiel made him put on his seat-belt, which he then proceeded to twist around and stretch in such a way that it would be completely useless if they actually _did_ get into a wreck. Castiel decided to pick his battles.

They went to the Motel, where Sam went in and changed, coming out with his guitar—which rode in the back with Gabriel so it wouldn't bounce around too much. Then they headed into the city, where they hit the tail end of rush hour traffic, the entire time during Gabriel gyrated in the back saying “I told you so” and “We're gonna be late”—to which Castiel only allowed himself to respond with “Shut up Gabriel” in times of intense distress. Sam found the whole thing quite amusing.

As the sky began to prematurely darken as clouds rolled in, they found a parking spot a block away from Candelstop. Before the care had even fully stopped, Gabriel dashed out and raced down the street. Castiel and Sam followed at a more sane speed.

“He must be really excited about this,” Sam said.

“He's planning something, I know it,” Castiel said. “I just don't know what.”

“Well, whatever it is it's gonna be a nice distraction,” Sam said as they pushed into the bar.

“There you guys are!” Gabriel said, jumping out at them the second the door closed. “Took _forever_.”

“We were fifteen minutes late Gabriel,” Castiel said. “It's not the end of the word.”

“Yeah well they've already started, so we're not opening anymore,” Gabriel said, with a touch of genuine upsetness in his voice. “On the plus side the guy on stage now is singing Bohemian Rhapsody, so that was nice to arrive to.”

“What is the song list for this?” Sam said, looking around Gabriel and Castiel towards the small stage, where a large percentage of Candelstop's patrons were gathered. A large banner hung over the stage reading karaoke NIGHT! GRAND OPENING! in purple letters with some painted music notes and microphones.

“It's _huge_ , and if something's not on there tell me and I'll fix it,” Gabriel said, grabbing Sam's arm. “Actually come here, I wanted to run something by you.”

“Umm, what?” Sam stammered, looking back at Castiel.

“He'll be fine he'll be fine,” Gabriel said, dragging Sam away to the karaoke kiosk. “Cass! Grab a seat okay?”

“I will,” Castiel called back, raising a hand. Sam gave an apologetic shrug before Gabriel pulled his attention back. Castiel wondered down into the seating in front of the small stage, finding a small table with three chair near the edge of the crowd. He sat down as the next performer came on, sharing an off-key rendition of “Ice Ice baby”. He also appeared to be drunk, which only added to the performance. Crowd still loved him though, and Castiel wondered if that was part of the point of karaoke.

As he pondered this, the drunk singer managed to stumble off the stage, and he was startled back to reality by a familiar voice booming over the microphone.

“Hey everybody! Are we all having fun?”

The crowd cheered as Gabriel grinned into the microphone, Sam coming up the stage behind him tuning his guitar. “So as some of you may know, I have worked long and hard to make this karaoke night a reality and I am glad I get to share this opening night with you special people.”

More cheering and Castiel couldn't do anything but shake his head. Gabriel should've gotten into politics.

“Unfortunately, I was unable to start things off for you all, but please allow me to remedy that by [reforming for you now—and no not that kind.” More cheers of a slightly different nature. “Accompanying me I have the lovely and talented Sam Winchester—some of you may remember him fro Pirate Night, if you remember that night at all” Cheers as Sam glanced up, waving his hand in an almost nervous gesture. Clearly he wasn't used to being on-stage sober. “Sam of course will be providing vocals and some live music to add to our soundtrack—which should be fun.

“Before we start though, I'd like to dedicate this to our mutual friend—” He gestured between himself and Sam. “My cousin, the blue-eyed babe in the trenchcoat in the back—Castiel!”

More cheers and suddenly everyone was twisting around in there seats to face Castiel, who sat there dumbfounded.

“This one's out to you coz—keep that in mind,” Gabriel said, giving Castiel a wink. Castiel rolled his eyes. “And of course, if you decide you'd like to join us, please come up on the stage.”

“I'm good thank you,” Castiel called back, but Gabriel was already announcing the song—which Castiel missed—and the crowed cheered louder. Gabriel pressed a button on the kiosk and the song started, some kind of exciting riff which Sam played along with, giving a more rounded quality to the slightly tinny play. Gabriel “casually” slipped the mic off the stand and wonder into the middle of the stage, striking a pose as soon as the lyrics started.

“ _Tried to amend my carnivorous habits—made it nearly seventy days. Losing weight without speed eating sunflower seeds, drinking lots of carrot juice and soaking up rays._

“ _But at night I'd have these wonderful dreams, some kind of sensuous treat. Not zucchini fettuccine, Bulgar wheat, but a big warm bun and a huge chunk of meat!_ ”

Sam joined in on the chorus and it dawned on Castiel that this song—like many of the things Gabriel did—was not to be taken seriously.

“ _Cheeseburger in paradise! Heaven on earth with an onion slice. Not too particular, not too precise, just a—Cheeseburger in paradise!_ ”

A short music interlude followed, where Gabriel replaced the mic on the stand and stepped aside as Sam came up, taking lead on the next verse.

“ _Heard about the old-time sailor men, they eat the same thing again and again. Warm beer and bread they said could raise the dead well it reminds me of the menu at a Holiday Inn._

“ _Time, have changed, for sailors these days. When I'm in port I get what I need. Not just Havanas or bananas or daiquiris, but that American creation on witch I feed!_ ”

Most of the audience joined in for the next chorus—slightly different form the first one. Castiel was just trying to ignore the gestures Gabriel was making to get him up there.

“ _Cheeseburger in paradise! Medium rare with mustard be nice. Heaven on Earth with an onion slice, I'm just a—Cheeseburger in paradise!_ ” 

A longer music interlude this time, which Gabriel use as an opportunity to try in force to get Castiel onstage,

“Come on Cass!” he yelled across the crowd. “It's your theme song, get up here!”

The crowd started to rally, trying to drag Castiel out of his seat and up on stage. Sam was laughing, letting the background music do the work at the moment and gesturing fro Castiel to get up there. Finally Castiel relented and allowed himself to be herded up onto the stage, helped up the small step by Sam.

“Just sing along,” Sam said close in his ear in order to be heard over the music and crowd. “Lyrics are on the screen and we'll help. Okay?”

Castiel nodded but had little intention of actually singing. He felt a surprising amount of tension as he saw the yellow block lyrics begin to fall down the screen, just as the music took a more flat, percussive feel. Sam and Gabriel—as well as most of the crowed—clapped in time as they sang.

“ _I like mine with lettuce and tomato. Heinz fifty-seven and french fried potato. Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer well good god almighty which way do I steer for my—_

“ _Cheeseburger in paradise! Making the best of every virtue and vice. Worth every damn bit of sacrifice to get a—Cheeseburger in paradise!_ ”

Castiel continued to be silent, alternating smiling awkwardly at the crowd and staring at the lyric screen. He wondered why people voluntary did this.

“ _To be a—Cheeseburger in paradise!_ ”

And what is this _song_? Gabriel had to have picked it. He glanced up at Sam and suddenly stopped. Sam had just happened to glance up from his guitar to the audience, and the grin on his face...suddenly his reluctance to be there didn't matter. Sam was what mattered. 

“ _I'm just a—Cheeseburger in paradise!_ ”

Sam looked down and caught Castiel staring, furrowing his brow in a silent question until Castiel shook his head in dismissal. Suddenly, the music shifted again to the same bridge as before and Castiel took his chance.

“ _—like mine with lettuce and tomato._ ” 

Sam looked down at him, startled but the new voice for a moment. Castiel just glanced back up, continuing to “sing” (It was really more like lyrical talking).

“ _—Heinz fifty-seven and french fried potato._ ”

Sam grinned, with just the slightest hint of that laugh of his, and Castiel realized that there was very little he wouldn't do to made Sam smile like that more often.

“ _—Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer well good god almighty which way do I steer for my—!_ ”

As the song faded out the crowed cheered. Sam put his arm around Castiel in a quick and lingered with it around his waist, other arm steadying his guitar. Castiel was grinning himself—the adrenalin was almost overwhelming—but as he glanced out around the crowed and saw something that made him sober up pretty quickly.

Casually hanging out by the main bar, glass of scotch in his hand, was Dean, watching them with a strange expression on that seemed satisfactory, but also a touch melancholy.

“Let's go,” Castiel said, taking Sam's arm from around his waist and leading him toward the side of the stage.

“Why? Something wrong?” Sam asked, but letting himself be lead away.

“Just...hot,” Castiel said, not wanting to potentially ruin the mood of tonight. Sam and Dean had made progress, but surprise run-in progress?

“He's right, it is really hot up here,” Gabriel said, appearing out of nowhere behind the two of them, placing a hand on each shoulder to help usher them off. “How about we go to the bar and get a drink?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Sam said as Castiel's eyes went wide.

“No, I don't,” he said, but not having a legitimate excuse other than the truth trailed off. Sam looked at him curiously.

“You okay Cass?” he said with a bit of a laugh. “Showbiz didn't go to your head _that_ much did it?”

Castiel managed a chuckle, but couldn't help but flicker his gaze over to the bar where Dean was—unfortunately—still standing.

“Yeah come on Cass—it's just the bar, nothing wrong with that,” Gabriel said.

And suddenly it clicked.

“ _You_ ,” Castiel said, yanking Gabriel off to the side. “You did this.”

“Well yeah, I lead with that didn't I?” Gabriel said. “I've been calling for karaoke night for years.”

“Not _that_ ,” Castiel snapped. _This_. Dean is here!”

“Oh is he?” Gabriel said in that tone where they both knew he was lying but wouldn't just spit it out. “Well what a coincidence.”

“Do you think this is _okay_?” Castiel said, shoving Gabriel's shoulder. “Do you even understand what's happening?”

“No, and neither do you,” Gabriel said, which took Castiel aback. “But, while I'm not _your_ brother, I do have brothers, and I know that all Dean _really_ wants to know is that Sam's alright, so I showed him he was. Okay?”

“No it's...” Castiel started, but he didn't have anything to refute it. He turned around when he suddenly remembered Sam had gone on ahead. “Sam!”

He rushed towards the bar, where Dean and Sam were propped up on bar stools next to each other. “Oh, hey Cass,” Dean said when he noticed him. “Saw you on stage—nice singing.”

“I—uhh—thanks,” Castiel said with a polite nod, but his eyes were really on Sam. He only saw his back but he looked tense. “So, what are you doing here?”

“You know that's actually a funny story,” Dean said. “Came downstairs this morning and the attendant behind the desk said some guy came by to give me a special invitation to tonight's Karaoke Night, sixt o'clock sharp. I thought it was a little nuts but I happened to be in the area and figured what the hell.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

“Well isn't that just weird,” Gabriel said, inserting himself into the conversation as Castiel rolled his eyes. “Glad you could make it though. I'm Loki, though Cass her might've mentioned me as Gabriel.”

“Oh, you're his cousin,” Dean said. “Yeah he did mention you. Happy birthday by the way.”

“Oh why thank you,” Gabriel said, looking at Castiel who tried to hide his face. Sam just looked confused. “And let me just say, I've heard a lot about you but none of it does you justice.”

“I, thank you?” Dean said.

“You know what? How about a round of drinks! I happen to be personally acquainted with the bartender. 'Nanzi!” Ananzi looked over from where he was drying off tumblers. “A round of drinks my good sir.”

“Maybe if you come over here and ask me instead of shouting across the bar,” Ananzi said, setting the glass in his hands down and picking up another one.

Gabriel sighed. “One moment,” he said said, slipping away. Dean watched him go.

“Are all your friends like this?” Dean asked.

“Unfortunately,” Castiel said. 

“They're not that bad,” Sam said. “Eccentric and loud sure, but not bad.” 

“I'd love to meet them,” Dean said, taking a drink. Sam looked at him and he shook his head. “I'm just saying, I'd like to get a better sense of the life you've made for yourself here.”

Sam shifted in his seat to face Dean better, a slightly confused expression on his face. “What are you getting at?”

Dean sighed. “Obviously you've made a place for yourself here, and...I'm happy for you.” Sam said, up. “Don't look so surprised.”

“I'm, I'm not,” Sam said. “Okay maybe a little, but I thought you were of the opinion the only home we'd ever have was on the road.”

“Well, I've been re-thinking that recently,” Dean said, fiddling with his drink. “And even so, we're brother but that doesn't mean we want the same things. You want a place to come home to every night and as close to a normal life as you can get.”

Sam scoffed a little. “I'm pretty sure 'normal' is a lost cause for me.”

“I said as you can get,” Dean said. “But the point is...you're happy here. And I'm happy you're happy.”

Sam looked at his brother, a smile on his face. “Thanks Dean,” he said. “That's really cool of you.”

“Shut up,” Dean said, turning towards his glass. “You know all I want is to make sure you're happy. Stop trying to make this a chick flick thing.” Sam still smiled and nudged his brother's shoulder. Dean smiled too, and they shared one of those moments of understanding that you can only reach with someone who has known you your entire life. Castiel looked down the bar, where Ananzi was pouring drinks for Gabriel and caught his cousin's eye. Gabriel gave an 'I told you so smirk' and Castiel did have to admit, he had been right for once.

“And I'm also gonna have to give a shout out to Cass here,” Dean said, bringing Castiel back. “Don't know the whole story but I'm pretty sure you've got a large part to play in Sammy's current mood here.”

“I, I don't,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, Cass has been great,” Sam agreed, smiling up at him. “Best friend a guy could as for.”

Castiel couldn't help but smile back as he accepted the praise.

“Booze is here,” Gabriel announced, coming up from behind and situating himself beside Dean as he placed the drinks on the counter. “How about we toast to a great opening karaoke night huh?”

Dean shrugged as he took one of the shots. “Works for me.”

“Wonderful. Sam, Cass. Here's yours. “ He scooted two shots towards the pair and picked up his own. “Now.” He held it up. “To karaoke night. It was a long, hard battle, but finally you're here. And you're glorious.” Sam stifled a laugh and Castiel just shook his head. “Here's to you, and to many more like you.” With that he drained his glass and the others followed suit, chuckling as they set the empty glasses on the counter.

“Must say I've never toasted a karaoke night before,” Dean said.

“Oh I've got plenty of other things to toast if you're game,” Gabriel said. He caught the attention of another one of the bartenders. “'Nother round.”

“Mind if I join?” an accented voice said behind them.

“Benny,” Dean said when they all turned around. “You came.”

“Apparently the invitation was real,” Benny said, glancing around. “Bigger then I expected.”

“Oh you ain't seen nothing yet,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Loki. Cass' cousin.”

“Benny. Dean's partner.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Partner partner?

“PI partner,” Dean said.

“Ah, excellent.”

“And I have a girlfriend back in Indiana.”

“Ah, not as excellent.”

As Gabriel continued to chat, Castiel looked over at Sam, whose expression had gone blank as he fiddled with his empty glass. “Are you alright?” he asked under his breath.

Sam shook his head. “I'm fine,” he said back. 

Castiel didn't even ask if he was sure. He looked back towards the others, who were chuckling at something Gabriel had said.

“So brother,” Benny said, clapping dean on the shoulder and taking the bar stool on the other side. “Did I miss anything important?”

Sam's hand tightened around the empty shot glass momentarily before he pushed it to the side. “I gotta go,” he said quickly, getting up from his seat and heading towards the door.

“Sammy? Sammy!” Dean called, standing up and going after him. Castiel hesitated, but after a moment followed after.

“Stay,” he said, turning around and pointing to Gabriel. Gabriel nodded, gesturing for Castiel to hurry up. Benny looked a little confused, but understood enough to stay put as well. Castiel turned around and hurried out.

It was raining pretty heavily now. Castiel spotted the two brothers across the street and darted across traffic towards them, earning a few honks from annoyed drivers. Neither Sam nor Dean seemed to notice as he approached, to caught up in yelling at each other.

“It was Dads choice, not yours,” Dean yelled. “You had nothing to do with it.”

“You don't understand Dean,” Sam said, shaking his head,

“Then help me understand,” Dean called back. “We're both here, and I'm not leaving any time soon, so you might as well spill.”

Sam groaned and walked a tight circle in frustration. “It's not just that,” he said.

“Then what else is it?” Dean said.

Sam sighed, looking up at the sky. Castiel couldn't be sure in the rain but it seemed like he was crying. “Dad _killed_ himself for you,” Sam said, having difficulty getting the words out. “And he never would've done something like that for me.”

Dean stared at him slack-jawed. Castiel was similarity shocked. “Sam,” he said, stepping closer to his younger brother. “Why the _hell_ would you think something like that?”

“Gee Dean, I wonder why,” Sam said sarcastically. “Maybe because while we were growing up it was all about you. Maybe because he criticized my every step, no matter what did. Maybe because he would lecture me on the importance of what we were doing whenever I mentioned wanting to do something—anything—else. Maybe because he _disowned_ me when I decided to go off to collage to have a shot at a normal life.”

“Sam,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Sam you've got it all wrong. Dad cared for you so much. He didn't have a choice with me, he couldn't do it on his own. He tried to keep you a kid for as long as possible.”

“A kid?” Sam laughed. “You don't take kids to dive bars when you're roughing up bikers for information.”

“He _didn't_. Not at first at least, not until you started sneaking into the trunk instead of staying at the Motel—or don't you remember?” Dean said.

Sam looked away, jaw clicking slightly. Dean stepped closer. “He kept you back as long as possible to try and protect you.”

“Some protection 

 

“He made the best out of a shitty situation.”

“Don't you think I know that?” Sam yelled. “Why do you think I'm so mad? I shouldn't be mad—but I am. I want to be irrationally angry and blame him for everything but I can't. I know he tried, and maybe I don't understand everything he did, but he also didn't stick around long enough to try and explain it either. He just...gave up.” He paused, pressing his fist to his mouth to try and keep a handle on himself. His entire body was shaking. “He gave up, after trying so hard, and, and I...I just don't understand.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I don't understand.”

“Sam,” Dean said. He closed the distance between them and pulled his brother into a hug. Sam screwed his eyes shut and clung to his brother as he continued to shake, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Don't replace me Dean,” Sam said. “I can't bear to lose you too.”

“I could never replace you Sammy,” Dean said, tucking Sam's head under his chin and stroking his hair. “You're my little brother. No way in hell you'd get rid of me that easy.” 

Sam chuckled a little but said nothing. Castiel watched from his spot by the streetlight, smiling softly. He shifted awkwardly, feeling like he was intruding on their moment. He started to head back to Candelstop when Sam suddenly reached out his arm.

“Cass,” he said. Immediately Castiel was by his side.

“I'm here,” he said, taking Sam's hand. The musician pulled him closer, into the tight-packed circle. Castiel and Dean exchanged glances, and both nodded at each other. Sam was never going to be alone again. Not if they could help it.

Eventually they went back inside. No one said anything and no one asked, Ananzi just got them towels to dry off and some shirts to change into while Gabriel told them about how this guy sang Gangnam Style while they were gone and was so drunk he fell of the stage while he was dancing. 

The rest of the night was relatively uneventful. They talked, they joked, everyone got comfortable drunk (except Castiel, since he was again the designated driver). Even Sam and Benny seemed to be getting along, which made Castiel smile. It was a little before last call when Dean mentioned they he and Benny were heading out the next day.

“So soon?” Sam said over the sound of Please Don't Stop the Music. 

“A couple days ago you were ready to get rid of me. Noe you're upset?” Dean teased with a smile.

“That was then, this is now,” Sam said, shoving his brother who just laughed. “And are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “We've been away from the case long enough, need to head back and buckle down.”

“Well,” Sam said, getting to his feet and swaying slightly. “I'm not gonna let you leave without a proper send-off at least.” He pushed away from the table, heading up towards the front.

Dean watched him, confused. “What's going on?”

“While drunk? No idea,” Gabriel said. “But it's gonna be good.”

Castiel was a little curious as well. He watched as Sam made his way up to the stage. He said a few words to the guy watching over the machine, who nodded. Once the current song was over, the man handed Sam two microphones and he walked on with a grin on his face. Several people in the audience cheered as they recognized him. He waved, then his grin intensified as the music started playing. Dean sat up in his seat, a disbelieving look on his face.

“Come on Dean,' Sam said into one of the mics. “I know it's one of your favorite songs.”

Dean seemed to struggled, but with the crowd cheering and Gabriel pushing him forwards he finally relented, making his way up and grabbing the second mic.

“ _Leaves are fallin' all around. Time I was on my way_ ,” he sang as Sam continued grinning. “ _Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay._ ” Gabriel cheered and whistled, Benny laughed, and Castiel smiled. “ _But now it's time for me to go, the autumn moon lights my way._ ” He turned towards the audience, hamming it up a little since he was drunk and on stage anyway. “ _For now I smell the rain, and with it, pain and it's headed my way. Aw, sometimes I grow so tired but I know I've got one thing I got to do_.” he glanced back towards Sam, who finally stepped up and sang back up on the chorus.

“ _A-ramble on, and now's the time, the time is now. Sing my song, I'm goin' 'round the world, I gotta find my girl. On my way, I've been this way ten years to the day. Ramble on, gotta find the queen of all my dreams_.” 

Sam sang the next verse, also a touch over dramatic. “ _Got no time to for spreadin' roots, the time has come to be gone. And though our health we drank a thousand times. It's time to ramble on.”_

They did strange half-dancing movements during the music interlude. The crowd cheered them on and it was obvious they were having trouble keeping a straight face.

_“A-ramble on, and now's the time, the time is now. Sing my song, I'm goin' 'round the world. I've gotta find my girl. On my way, I've been this way ten years to the day. I gotta ramble on, I gotta find the queen of all my dreams. I tell you no lie._ ”

Dean took center stage for the next verse, dramatically gesturing as he “told his tale” while Sam continued dancing and miming out what Dean was saying. 

“ _Mine's a tale that can't be told. My freedom I hold dear. How years ago in days of old when magic filled the air. 'Twas in the darkest depths of Mordor, mm—I met a girl so fair. But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her, her, her, yeah. And ain't nothin' I can do, no_.”

“ _I guess I'll keep on ramblin'!” The brother's sang. “I'm gonna. Sing my song. (Sh-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah). I've gotta find my baby. I'm gonna ramble on, sing my song. Gonna work my way all around the world  
(Baby, baby) Ramble on, yeah._” 

They continued singing and dancing around, a mess of 'yeah yeah yeah' and 'my my my' and several other vocalizations along with a few actual phrases. When it was over, they took a bow as the audience cheered, then gave each other a one armed hug before stumbling off the stage and back to the table.

“That was [ _idiculous_ ,” Dean said as he collapsed back into his chair.

“But you had fun?” Sam made sure.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” Dean said with another laugh. “But I'm definitely gonna need another drink.”

That prompted laughs from everyone and another round of drinks.

 

#

 

True to their word, Benny and Dean headed out the next morning. Sam Castiel, and Gabriel had all come to see them off and the five of them were standing in the Holiday Inn parking lot between the Impala and Benny's truck.

“Sorry I didn't get to meet the rest of the gang,” Dean said as he tossed his bags in the trunk. “Seem like a fun bunch.”

“You'll catch them next time, I'll make sure of it,” Gabriel said. “Of course, assuming there is a next time.”

“Of course,” Dean said, looking at Sam, who smiled. “I'll be back before you know it.”

“Well maybe you don't have to come back _that_ soon,” Sam said. They laughed, then Dean let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well,” he said. “Guess this is goodbye. How long as it been since we've had a proper one of these?”

“I know,” Sam agreed, smile more subdued. “I'm gonna miss you man.”

“Me too,” Dean said. They too hugged, and Castiel smiled as he watched them. Benny stepped up next to him.

“Hey Castiel,” he said, extending a hand. “I was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Castiel said, as they shook hands. They both nodded and Benny replaced his hand in his coat pocket. Castiel knew very little about the other man, but there was definitely something about him that made him a little uneasy. 

“So what branch were you?” Benny asked, catching Castiel by surprise.

“I, was never in the military,” he said.

“Law enforcement then,” Benny said. “Federal or local?”

Castiel was silent for a moment before replying. “Federal.”

Benny nodded, satisfied with the answer. Gabriel glanced over at Castiel, who said nothing. He turned back to see Sam and Dean pull apart. The two shared a smile before sam turned around.

“Benny,” he said as they shook hands. “Sorry I was kinda weird at first.”

“It's fine brother, I understand,” Benny said. “You take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, you too. And keep an eye on Dean, make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble out there.”

“I always do.”

“Hey, Cass,” Dean said, Catching Castiel's attention.

“Yes?”

“Look...I like you Cass, you're a pretty cool dude and you get Sammy to cheer up once in awhile,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But—and I'm saying anything is actually going on—but if something _does_...well if you hurt my little brother...”

It took Castiel a few moments to pick up on what dean was referring to and his eyes widened. “Oh, I, no Dean, you don't have to...”

“I know, I know,” Dean said quickly. “And...well dammit. I'm sorry if this is not my place or something, but I can tell when Sammy's smitten okay?” Castiel looked away. “And I'm pretty sure things would be okay...but it's kind of a big brothers duty to make a formal threat ya'know? So, just in case.”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, I understand. And don't worry Dean, I have no intention of harming your brother in any way.”

“I know Cass,” Dean said. “And now that that's out of the way, I'll see ya later man.” He clapped Castiel on the shoulder and gave him a friendly smile. “Don't know when, but I'll see you later.”

“I look forward to it,” Castiel said, giving a nod as Dean stepped to the side so he and Gabriel could say their goodbyes.

Castiel glanced over at Sam, Dean's words rolling around inside his head. He had to admit the _possibility_ of a relationship was there—he felt a certain attraction to Sam and he musician had definitely shown signs of interest—but he also wondered at the practicality of it. Standing on the sidewalk between Sam and Gabriel, waving as Dean and Benny climbed into their cars and drove off, he couldn't help but instead see a blond-haired girl smiling up at him from his memory.

 


	3. Part Three

 

“Sam?” Castiel called, walking between the towers of crates. His gus was in his hands, same weight and feel as when he first picked it up all those years ago. Finger in the trigger all his senses were on high alert, hyper-aware of every sound and movement. But all he could hear were his own echoing footsteps.

He stepped out of the safety of the crates and into the main floor of the warehouse. Dirt caked the high-up row of windows, by the open loading doors told him it was night-time. A cool breeze rustled a few papers and some ropes hanging ominously from the pulley system, but by all account he was alone.

“Castiel?” a feminine voice said behind him.

“Meg?” Castiel said, whirling around. He gasped, nearly dropping his gun as he saw Sam standing there, hazel eyes glassy and face pale as he looked at Castiel. His mouth opened a few times, like he was trying to say something, but no words came out. He reached out a hand, but suddenly his knees buckled and he dropped.

“Sam!” Castiel said, dropping to his knees to support his friend. He searched Sam's face for any clue as to what was wrong. His hands touched wet and he looked down to see a flower of blood, seeping into Sam's shirt from a knife hilt buried in his stomach. He looked back at Sam, who met his eyes for a brief moment.

“Castiel,” Sam said in Meg's voice. “Why...why couldn't you save me?”

“Oh God,” Castiel choked as Sam's body grew limb in his arms and sank towards the floor. “God no...Sam...Meg...please.” She shook Sam's body but there was no response as flat hazel stared off into nothingness. “Please...please no. Not again. Please...” He sobbed again and buried his face in the fabric of Sam's shirt, the pool of red growing ever larger around them.

“No...please. I'm sorry. So, so sorry.”

 

#

 

Castiel woke with a start as a lightning flash temporarily illuminated the room. Once it had receded and he was left in the darkness, he let out a shuddering breath. The clock flashed Pf at him in the dark, and thunder rolled outside. He tossed away his sweat stained blankets and buried his face in his hands, truing to keep his heart form pounding and body from shaking.

In the pitch darkness, his hands felt like they were still covered in blood.

 

#

 

Castiel was walking back from work when he spotted a familiar figure up ahead. “Sam?”

The musical turned around, face lighting up as he recognized his friend. “Cass, hey. Yeah, is around that time isn't it?” He checked his watch. “Wow. Been awhile since we met up like thin huh?”

“it has,” Castiel agreed, noting the backpack and duffel-bag Sam had in addition to his guitar case. “I thought you had work at this time?”

“Yeah, I usually do,” Sam said. “I just took a day off to move.”

Castiel tried to hide the panic in his face. “You're...leaving?” he said.

“What? Oh, no, no,” Sam said, shaking his head. Castiel relaxed. “The motel I've been staying at got some serious damage in the storm last night, so I was heading across the city to check in at The Sunset.”

“Oh,” Castiel said. That explained the duffel bag and backpack. Was that really all he had? “The Sunset is pretty far. Were you planning on walking?”

“Well I'll probably catch a bus closer into the city,'”Sam said. “That way I wont have to change every other stop to get there.”

“I could give you a ride,” Castiel said. “Or, you could just stay with me.”

Castiel was almost surprised was Sam was at the offer. “Really?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “I have a guestroom that's not being used, and while my apartment's not the best place I feel it's better then a room at the Sunset.”

“Don't sell yourself short, your apartment's awesome,” Sam said. “But...I wouldn't want to impose...”

“You're not imposing, I'm offering,” Castiel said.

“Yes but...”

“I insist.”

“I...” Sam looked at him for a moment, then let out a breath that sounded almost like a chuckel and shrugged. “Well then, if you're insisting...show me the guestroom.”

Castiel smiled. “Right this way. There's till some walking left I'm afraid. Here, let me help carry something,” he said

“Oh no no,” Sam said, turning away from Castiel's reach. “You're already letting me crash at your place, I'm not letting you carry my bags.”

Castiel didn't press it and they headed off to his house, keeping up a light conversation most of the way. It was nice, Castiel thought, and easy, like in the early days of their friendship. He hadn’t even realized just how much had changed since then.

They got to the building without incident, and Castiel led Sam down the short entrance hall and up the stairwell to the second floor apartment. “And here we are,” Castiel said as he pushed open the door to let Sam inside.

Sam walked in, nodding approvingly as he looked around. “It's even nicer when I'm not drunk-slash-hungover,” he said, with a quick grin at Castiel.

Castiel just smiled as he walked past Sam. “Come, I'll show you the guestroom. You can go ahead and put your things in there.”

Sam followed him down the short hallway ending with a small window on the outside wall. Castiel opened the one on the right-hand side and pushed in, revealing a well-kept bedroom, complete with a king-sized bed, dresser with a mirror over it, and a small closet. It was clean, and green-themed, but had that odd stillness that comes when something's been unused for a long time.

“Nice,” Sam said, looking around as he set his things on the foot of the bed. “Have to admit I’m a little surprised to find out you have a guest room in your apartment.”

“I have no other use for the room, and I often have Gabriel over when he's too drunk to be left alone. Which is most of the time we go out.” Castiel said.

“So you're an experienced drunk caretaker,” Sam said with a grin as he sat on the edge of the bed. “That's why you were so good with me after Pirate Night.”

“I have had a lot of practice,” Castiel said, taking a seat next to Sam. “More then I would like.”

Sam laughed. “So what's the story with you guys?” he asked, leaning back on his elbows. “I know you're cousins, but I barely know my cousins and you two seem pretty close.”

“We are, despite how much he annoys me,” Castiel said. “We grew up together—Gabriel, Jimmy and I. There were many more cousins but the three of us were the closest in age. Our family is very large and tended to stay in the area whenever someone got married. My family was somewhat outcast since my mother married a man whom Grandfather disproved of. After Jimmy and I were born and were twins he made sure we were 'raised right' among the family.”

“Why would you being twins matter whether or not your grandfather accepted you?” Sam asked.

“Twins run in our family, so he saw it as a sign from God that we were still 'true Miltons',” Castiel said, tone hinting that he found it ridiculous. “My cousins Raphael, Raffaela, and Donnie are actually triplets, and it was a really big deal when they were born I hear. Probably the reason Raphael and Raffaela have such a superiority complex. Not everyone in my family is a multiple birth though—Gabriel isn't, and his eldest brother. But back to your question. Gabriel, Jimmy and I tended to group together during family dinners. Gabriel was part of the main family, but always felt left out under his brothers. And later when things started deteriorating he got caught in the middle, which wasn't pleasant for him. So he gravitated towards Jimmy and I, because we were—as he said—'calming influences far away from the molten crazy'.”

“But he still ran away,” Sam said. “Even with you guys.”

“I got to be too much I guess,” Castiel said. “He's a few years older then us, so he was already in collage while we were in high school, so we were all pretty busy. One day though he was just gone. I thought I'd never hear from him again.”

“But you did,” Sam said. “Is that why you came to New England?”

“Actually I had no idea Gabriel was in New England,” Castiel said. “I came here because it was on the opposite side of the country from where I was. I happened to run into him three days after I had arrived—literally.”

“Like, you literally _ran_ into him?' Sam said trying not to laugh.

Castiel nodded. “I was distracted by someone yelling at a hot dog vendor and slammed into him. Fell flat on the ground and looked up to see him standing over me. Hair slicked back, tie around his neck in a business suit with a Bluetooth in his ear.”

“Wait,” Sam said, sitting up. “We're talking about the same Gabriel right?”

“I was just as surprised as you are,” Castiel said. “Didn't recognize him at first. He was helping Daji out with her old boss by pretending to be a lawyer. He explained it all when he took me to coffee. He also dragged me along to help, saying I was the firms private investigator and had found some very compromising information about him.”

“Oh my god,” Sam said, not even trying to hold it in now. “What did you do?”

“Played along. It wasn't hard,” Castiel said. “And we helped Daji, so it worked out in the end. That's also how I met her, and then the rest of the group later that day when they all went out for drinks to celebrate.”

“Do they do stuff like that often?”

“Not as much anymore, but yes. Quite,” Castiel said, mind temporarily drifting back to all the schemes Gabriel had dragged him along to.

“That's great,” Sam said, still laughing a little. “So, where were you before coming here?”

“California,” Castiel said. “Los Angeles.”

“Oh,” Sam said, looking away. “Right. I knew that, sorry.”

Castiel gave a small smile. “It's all right,” he said. He patted Sam's knee and stood up. “I'll leave you to unpack. Please, make yourself at home. There's fresh towels in the linen closet if you would like to take a shower.”

“O-okay,” Sam said. “I'm good though. Thanks.”

Castiel nodded and headed out, pausing in the doorway and turning back. “Before I forget, what would you like for dinner?”

“What do you have?” Sam asked.

Castiel paused for a moment, taking stock of the meager fridge offerings. “I have a phone.”

Sam laughed, and somehow the tense atmosphere melted away with the sound. “Alright then. Whatever's fine, I'm not picky.”

Castiel nodded. “I'll let you know when it should be here,” he said, then left.

When he got into the kitchen, he let out a long breath, bracing himself against the sink counter. He glanced up at the calender, it was still over a month away. Where was all this coming from? He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. If his dreams were any indication, letting Sam stay probably wasn't the smartest idea, but what else was he supposed to do? He felt bad for leaving Sam with all this half-information, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to tell him. The FBI knew of course. Jimmy was told enough to keep him from snooping he assumed. Gabriel probably pieced it together over the years, but Sam. No, not Sam. He couldn't bring Sam into his past like that. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cool granite in an attempt to chase away the nervousness churning in the pit of his stomach.

The dripping faucet reminded him of blood. 

 

#

 

Castiel woke up to the smell of eggs. He lifted his head groggily, wrinkling his nose with his eyes still half-shut, wondering if he had devolved olfactory hallucinations some time during the night. He checked his alarm, sitting silently on his nightstand with the snooze symbol in the top corner, and after a moments deliberation, decided he had to get up soon anyway, so he might as well try and figure out where that smell was coming from. He groaned as he pushed himself out of bed, grabbing the robe slung over the back of his desk chair only because it was cold, and shuffling out of his room in his boxers and gray T-shirt with holes in it.

He wandered into the kitchen—where he remembered eggs were usually kept—and squinted around.

Sam was standing in front of the stove, moving eggs around on a skillet and humming some annoyingly perky song to himself. He looked up as Castiel stood there squinting, still processing everything through his sleep heavy mind.

“Morning Cass,” he said, flashing a white-toothed grin and gesturing with his spatula. “Hope you don't mind, I figured I'd make some breakfast.”

Definitely a morning person.

Castiel stood there a few more seconds. “Oh,” he said, voice even rougher then usual. Then his head fell to the side, resting on his shoulder.

Sam tried to hide his smile as he returned his attention to the eggs. “I also put on a pot of coffee.”

The word 'coffee' got Castiel going again, instinctively shuffling over towards the coffeepot, bubbling away on the counter. He reached into the cabinet above, pulled out his stained FBI mug, and poured himself a cup, downing half of it almost immediately.

Sam's eyebrows were almost to his hairline. “Ulcers much?” he said. “Sure you don't want to cut that with some sugar or cream?”

“Don't take sugar—crash counteracts the caffeine,” Castiel said, eyes still closed as he cradled the rest of his coffee. “Cream sometimes, but the caffeine get to your bloodstream faster the less it's cut.”

“Okay,” Sam said, cutting the heat and pulling the eggs off the burner. “But straight from the pot? Is your esophagus made heat-resistant titanium or something?”

Castiel slowly opened his eyes, blinking the world into focus and turning his head towards Sam.

“It's cold,” was all he said.

Sam laughed as he pulled down two plates and started dishing out the food. “Well you're right about that. Rained all night I think—again. Thought it was supposed to be April showers, not May.” He shrugged and carried the two plates into the dining area—the space between the kitchen proper and the wall where a circular table sat—then returned to the kitchen. “Didn't you go to school in Chicago though? Shouldn't you be used to the cold?”

“I can bear it, but I'm not happy about it,” Castiel said, finishing his coffee and pouring another cup. “Almost failed freshman year because I was trying to hibernate all winter. I'm from Florida, we don't so cold. Virginia was bearable but Los Angeles was the best.”

“I didn't know you lived in Virginia,” Sam said, looking up from his cutlery search. 

“Oh, um, yes, I did,” Castiel said, looking down at his cup. “Couple years before I moved out to California.”

“Well that's cool” Sam said, finally successful in his search. He picked up the salt and pepper mills with his other hand and headed back to the table. “I didn’t put anything in the eggs. Do you want cheese or something?”

“I don't think there is any,” Castiel said, topping off his cup of coffee. He considered taking the entire pot with him to the table but though better of it.

“Oh yeah, I noticed your fridge was pretty empty,” Sam said as they sat down. “Haven't gone grocery shopping yet this week?” 

“Something like that,” Castiel said as he took as seat across from Sam. He didn't feel like trying to explain he really only went shopping once a month, and usually only when he was out of eggs or orange juice—canned soup when he was bringing it to Sam last year. Or when Gabriel made him.

“I can stop by on my way back from work if you want?” Sam offered, digging into his plate unseasoned. “I pass at least two grocery stores on my way.”

That made Castiel look up from where he was peppering his eggs. “You don't have to,” he said quickly.

“Well if I’m gonna live here awhile might as well help with the day-to-day right?” Sam said. “And I know how to shop, so you don't have to worry about that.”

“We...if you insist,” Castiel said, feeling uncomfortable about it for some reason. To be honest he hadn't had much experience sharing a living space with someone. He and Jimmy stopped sharing a room when they were eight, and his roommate freshman year was usually at his girlfriends apartment, so it was basically like having his own suite. Now it was more like the traditional roommate idea, which was going to be new. He just hoped Sam didn't insist on helping with rent.

They ate together peacefully, putting the dishes in the sink as Castiel left to get ready for work. Castiel had to admit it was nice sitting down and eating breakfast before going out—even if he did have to leave in the middle to turn off his snooze alarm. He felt somehow more focused, more ready to face the rest of the day. Sam didn't have to leave for another hour, so he was still in a pair of sweatpants and a white T-shirt when Castiel came back out, briefcase in hand. 

“Have a good day,” Sam said, smiling as Castiel readjusted his tie so it wasn't choking him. Castiel returned the sentiment, paused, then pulled out his wallet and took out a hundred dollar bill. 

“For the groceries,” he said, handing it to Sam.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, but took the money without fuss. “See you after work ,” he said, pocketing the money while Castiel started out the door. “Oh wait. Was there anything specific you wanted me to get?”

Castiel paused and thought for a moment. “Orange juice,” he said finally.

 

#

 

It was just starting to get dark when Castiel saw Sam walking up from t he block over, white plastic grocery bags in each hand and his backpack on his back. He looked surprised to see Castiel waiting for him.

“Cass? What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Meeting ran late, so I only got back ten minutes ago,” Castiel said, pushing away from the pole he had been leaning on. “Plus, I had to stop by and get this.” He pulled out a silver key from his pocket, a vinyl guitar key-chain attached to it and held it out towards Sam, who looked surprised. “If you're going to be living here for awhile, you should have a key.”

“Oh, wow, thanks,” Sam said, shifting the bags to one hand so he could take the key. “And you even got a key-chain for it. Cool!” He looked at Castiel and beamed. “Oh, and I got Orange juice. I didn't know if you wanted pulp or no pulp so I got both—I hope that's okay. Your fridge was really empty, so I just got a little of everything.”

“Sounds great,” Castiel said. “Should we go upstairs?”

“Lead the way,” Sam said, gesturing with his mostly free hand, grinning. Castiel smiled in return and headed into the building, Sam right behind him. 

 

#

 

The days went by relatively painlessly. Sam insisted on doing at least some of the chores around the house. He basically took over all the grocery shopping—which Castiel didn't really mind, since he never did much of it before. He also cooked more, even if it was just simple meals or deciding what restaurant to order form this time. He insisted on doing laundry—first just doing his own, but when Castiel started tossing both baskets into one big load he started kidnapping Castiel's clothes as well. They eventually decided to just alternate weeks.

He also helped out with cleaning lot. Castiel was relatively good at cleaning his own space—and since he didn't do much there wasn’t much to clean. But Sam seemed almost obsessed with sweeping, wiping off the counters, even washing the windows which Castiel never did. When Castiel asked him about it he just shrugged and said it was the weirdest things you missed most when you live in a place with housekeeping. Castiel decided to just let him go.

After a couple weeks—as Castiel had predicted—Sam did eventually approach the subject of splitting the rent. That was one this Castiel stood firm on, insisting Sam had zero obligation to pay rent when he had invited him to stay there as a _guest_. Sam eventually gave up, but Castiel did notice afterwords that he would often race him to the delivery boy to pay for their take-out—what they ate for dinner most nights. He didn't understand Sam's apparent need to pay for things, but let it slid when it wasn't anything too major.

And of course, Sam kept playing his guitar. No longer meeting on the bench in the afternoon—there was really no point when they were living together—Castiel would either accompany him on his outings to parks and other street corners on his days off, or just sit and enjoy the music whenever he played at home. Usually just sitting on the couch or the middle of the floor, but sometimes he heard the music late at night from the closed door of his bedroom. 

The only regret about the entire situation was when Castiel told Gabriel and the others. Gabriel reacted the most enthusiastically out of everyone, immediately launching into plans of a housewarming party. Knowing looks were exchanged, congratulations were given, innuendos were made, and Castiel didn't even bother correcting them because he knew it would be pointless. Less then a week after telling the group, Castiel came home one evening to find the apartment covered with streamers and balloons. HAPPY HOUSEWARMING! was spelled out on a banner over the hallway, with candy and chips and drinks littering almost every flat surface. the centerpiece of the spread was a huge cake with four layers that read “Called it” in blue frosting, sitting in the center of the dining room table, which had been moved to the middle of the floor. (Castiel would forever regret giving Gabriel a key “in case of emergencies”). When Sam came back he was similarly surprised, but got into the party spirit a lot easier then Castiel, who sequestered himself next to the bookcase and refused to join in with any of the games Gabriel or the others thought up unless bodily dragged into it.

After much sneaked in booze and embarrassing truths and dares, most of the group was passed out on the floor/couch and the apartment was a mess. Tired and rethinking his decision to let Gabriel know where he lived, Castiel leaned again the kitchen island and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off his emerging headache. Sam walked up next to him, nudging his shoulder and giving him a sleepy smile. “You have fun?”

“As much as was to be had,” Castiel said. “You? You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I did,” Sam said. He looked around the apartment. “This is gonna be a bitch to clean up in the morning though.”

Castiel chuckled. “I'll take the day off,” he said, pushing off the island and heading towards the hallway. “Or make them stay and clean it.”

Sam chuckled, walking with Castiel to the hall. “Sounds like a plan he said, as they paused int eh space between the door. “Well, guess it's bed.” Castiel nodded agreement, to tired to try and form words. Sam yawned. “'Night,” he said, then leaned forward and gave Castiel a peck on the cheek before heading into his room.

Castiel was suddenly awake, staring at the space Sam had just been. His hand went up and covered the spot Sam's lips just were, fogged mind trying to sort out all the emotions that followed along with it. Eventually he just shook his head, pushing it to the side like everything else, and headed into his own bedroom.

 

#

 

A few days later, Castiel came into the kitchen a little late that morning, and found Sam already sitting at the table, staring at the salt and pepper mills and looking eerily subdued. Castiel took his seat carefully, unsure what was going on. The previous night Sam had seemed rather worked up when he got home. Quiet, but an angry quiet. When he had asked Sam had just said he didn't want to talk about it and they left it at that. Castiel decided to wait until Sam initiated and started into his plate of eggs and hash-browns.

Sam groaned and dropped his head forward onto the table, making a loud knocking sound when his forehead connected. “I think I made a mistake.”

“How so?” Castiel asked, finishing his mouthful.

Sam sighed and rolled his head to the side so he wasn't as muffled. “I quit my job.”

Castiel's eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Sam sighed again and practically collapsed onto the table. “I know, I know. It was stupid and impulsive and I probably shouldn't have done it...but dammit I was just fed up!”

“Okay, okay,” Castiel said, setting his fork down. “Start from the beginning.”

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay...so a few weeks ago we got a new manager at the restaurant. Pretty quite, mostly likeable, but has no idea how to do his job. Things are always a little crazy this time of year with all the collage students home for the summer and getting part-time jobs, but somehow, this guy, managed to screw things up _so badly_ , that I'm surprised we were still getting food out.”

“That bad?” Castiel said.

“Worse,” Sam said. “For starters, he hired way too many people, but now refuses to fire anyone. And I get it. It sucks to be the bad guy, but when the restaurant can't function properly something needs to change. And on top of that, the guy can't even manage to get the shifts in some semblance of order. People had overlapping shifts and I don't think any start or end time was a round number. He kept on promising that everything would be sorted out, that he was working on it and it would take a few day-tops. Okay, I can't live with a few days of crazyness”

“But it wasn't just a few days,” Castiel assumed.

“Two weeks,” Sam said. “Two weeks later nothing's changed, so I decide to go up to him and ask what's going on, maybe offer to help. Do you know what he says? He says that I need to stop _rocking the boat_ and pushing this, and point out how no one else is complaining so much—that's because they're all High-schoolers or collage freshman who are just happy to have a job, so I tell him that. And then, he says 'you better be pretty happy you got a job yourself with that attitude problem you got there, Bigfoot.”

Castiel sighed, and nodded, seeing what was next.

“And that was it,” Sam said, sitting back and waving his hands in a sweeping gesture. I told him 'well maybe I don't need this job as much as you think, _asshole_ ' and stormed out. Everyone was looking at me like I grew a third head.” He sighed and slumped in his seat. “But now, I'm thinking I was a little too rash. I kinda do need that job.”

“You can find another job,” Castiel said. “And you make plenty of money busking—which you'll have even more time for now.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, looking off to the side. “But still.”

“You don't have to make a decision today,” Castiel said. “Take the day off, think it over. Okay?”

“That sounds pretty good actually,” Sam said, starting to smile a little. “And I suppose I've learned something.”

“What's that?”

“When taking on extra shifts in order to avoid people, think about what's gonna happen when they leave.” They both laughed and finished their breakfast in a lighter tone.

 

Sam took Castiel's advice and took the day for himself. When Castiel came home from work he found him sitting on the living room floor, books from the now empty bookshelf scattered around him.

“It helps me concentrate,” Sam explained before Castiel even had a chance to ask. “I memorized the Dewey Decimal System when I was ten.”

Castiel just gestured towards the shelf. “Please, I haven’t had time to keep it up recently, It's due for a good reorganizing.” Sam nodded thanks and returned to sorting out the books. Castiel was taking off his coat and loosening his tie when the phone rang. He didn't recognize the number but shrugged and answered it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is Sam there?” an eerily familiar voice asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said, looking over his shoulder at the other man. “Who is this?”

“It's Samandriel,” the voice said. “Sam left his things in the locker room when he quit yesterday. Gary and I have it and were just trying to find a way to get them back to him—his cell phone was in his bag and this was the number listed as his emergency contact.”

“Oh, okay then. One moment,” Castiel said, turning around. “Sam, it's Samandriel. He says he has your things.”

Sam looked up and immediately got to his feet. “Oh thank goodness,” he said, tripping over a few books in his rush to go over. “I was wondering when I'd be able to go back and get them. Thanks,” he said, taking the phone. “Hello?...Yeah, it's me. Hey Samandriel...no that was Cass...yeah I'm staying at his place now...” Castiel heard as Sam wondered off to talk. 

Castiel busied himself with picking up the already clean kitchen as Sam talked in the hallway. He came out a few minutes later, clicking the end call button and handing the phone back. “They're coming by with my bag—I hope it was okay to give them your address.”

“It's fine,” Castiel said, replacing the phone in it's charging station. “When are they coming?”

“They said they'd be right over,” Sam said. He glanced over at the living room. “I'll get that up before they get here though.”

“I'll help,” Castiel offered, following him into the living room.

Half an hour later, they were putting the last of the books back on the shelf when there was a knock on the door. Castiel got up and answered it, opening the door to reveal Samandriel and Gary standing outside, Sam's bag over Samandriel's shoulder. “Hello, come on in,” Castiel said, stepping aside. Gary looked around slacked jawed, acting like he'd just been allowed entrance into the Vatican's secrete archives. Samandriel was more subdued, but still looking around appreciatively.

“Nice place,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“I almost didn't believe it,” Gary said, obviously not paying attention to the conversation. “It made sense, but somehow seemed so unreal...” 

“Hey guys,” Sam said, getting to his feet and walking over. “Thanks for getting my stuff, I half expected Marco to toss it in the trash.”

“Oh he wouldn't do that,” Samandriel said as he handed the bag over. “Actually, he's pretty upset you quit.”

“Really?' Sam said. “Sure wasn't acting like it.”

“That was before you actually left,” Samandriel said.

“He was freaking out,” Gary called from across the room, where he was inspecting the recently shelved bookcase. “He hadn’t realized how many customers you brought in. Now that you're gone they are too.”

“What do you mean I brought in a lot of customers?' Sam said. Samandriel and Gary exchanged looks and even Castiel nodded. Sam flushed slightly looked away, seeming to regret asking.

“Basically,” Samandriel said. “If you want it, you could get your job back in a snap. But, as a friend I'm going to say you should probably use this opportunity to try and find something better then flipping burgers.”

Sam seemed unsure, glancing over at Castiel. “I'm still thinking it over, but thank you,” he said. Samandriel nodded.

“Hey, is this Sam's room?'”Gary called from somewhere down the hallway.

“I don't feel comfortable with this,” Sam said, clutching his bag a little tighter.

Samandriel sighed and shook his head. “I'll get him,” he said, heading towards the hallway.

“I understand he's your friend,” Castiel said quietly when Samandriel left. “But Gary frightens me sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “But the kids got a pretty crappy life so I feel for him. Plus, he's not _that_ bad once you get used to it.”

“Gary, you know better,” Samandriel scolded his coworker as he shooed him out of the hall. “People don't like it when you invade their personal space, how many time am I going to have to tell you this?”

“I just wanted to see,” Gary said, then noticed Sam and looked back down. “Sorry.”

“It's...fine,” Sam said with a small sigh.

“Do either of you need a ride back to your houses?” Castiel offered the two teens.

“No thank you,” Samandriel said as he ushered Gary to the door. “We'll just take the bus.”

“All right, be safe,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, and thanks again,” Sam added.

“No problem. Let us know what you decide,” Samandriel said.

“I will,” Sam promised. “Goodbye.”

“Bye Sam!”

“Bye Gary,” Sam said with a small wave. Then the door closed the the teens were gone. Sam took a deep breath and let it out again slowly.

Castiel looked over at him. “Are you okay?”

Sam nodded. “It's not the first job I've quite after all,” he said, with a slight chuckle. Then his smile dropped a little. “First I've quit while still planning to stick around though...”

 

#

 

Apparently, not having a job to go to everyday made Sam restless. He still did busking, but he said it “just wasn't working the same this time” which might've been making things worse. The apartment had never been cleaner, and the bookshelf seemed to be in a different order every time Castiel looked at it. Sam also decided to take up cooking, which itself wasn't a bad thing, but when Castiel came home one evening to a kitchen full of smoke and a stove covered in burnt sugar after a failed caramel attempt, he thought maybe it was time to suggest a new hobby. It hadn't even been a week.

One day, Castiel was on his way to a meeting he was desperately trying to find an excuse to skip when his phone rang and he ducked into one of the emptier hallways to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Cass? Hey, it's Brer, you get off early today, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, wondering where he was going with this.

“Great. Can you come by the shop when you get off? My new help decided not to show _again_ and I have a delivery of the new bestseller list books I need to get unloaded.”

“Did you expand the new books section?” Castiel said.

“My Uncle technically still owns half—even though he doesn't do jack shit and isn't the one who live here—and insisted that it would help book sales,” Brer said, clearly disproving. “Also had me expand into the second level, which made me loose half my storage space yet double my inventory. So can you come by?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, an idea occurring to him.”Can I bring Sam too?”

“That would be great actually,” Brer said. “The more help the better, and he can reach the top shelves.”

“Excellent. We'll be there at one.”

“Castiel, you are a godsend,” Brer said. “See you at one.”

 

Sam was thankful for the excuse to get out of the apartment. And he was excited they were going to a bookstore. When they got there Brer was relieved since the delivery truck arrived earlier then expected and he didn't want to have to lug all those boxes around by himself. The vague scent of smoke still lingering in the air gave a hint to what he'd been doing in the meantime to calm his nerves. That seemed to give Sam pause, but he didn't say anything and followed Brer and Castiel into the corner bookstore.

He actually proved himself quite useful, carrying most of the boxes up to the new upstairs (or the hot, sweaty, hell where new books can just go and die as Brer referred to it as on more then one occasion), and shelving most of them. He even ended up re-shelving some of the older books downstairs that had been miss-shelved, and commenting on the ones he'd read or heard about. If Castiel wasn't sure Brer was (mostly) straight, he would have assumed he was in love.

“You must have quite a collection yourself,” Brer said as Sam fawned over a first edition Faulkner.

“Unfortunately not as large as I'd like,” Sam said as he replaced the book on the shelf with an air of reverence. “Been on the road a lot for awhile and it's hard to lug around a lot of books. Got a few of my favorites but that's it.”

“Shame,” Brer said, shaking his head. “You're working at McDonalds?”

Sam winced. “Not anymore. I quit, so I'm currently jobless.”

“Oh,” Brer said. “Would you like to fix that?”

“Huh?”

“I'm currently in need of helpful help, you're currently jobless. Why don't we help each other out? You're obviously qualified, and the shops only a what? Half hour bus ride from your apartment?” Brer said.

“If that,” Castiel said.

“See? Plus, you'd be able to borrow any book from the store, and have employe discount if you decided you wanted to keep it forever.” Sam looked at the shelves of old, leather bound books awestruck. Brer leaned in closer. “So what do you say?”

“I...say yes,” Sam said, tearing himself away.

“Great!” Brer said, clapping his hands together, then grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him away. “Now, just a bit of paperwork to make it official and we're good to go! If you'll come with me.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Castiel who smiled, motioning that he'd wait there till he was finished.

After everything was taken care of and Sam and Castiel were headed back, Sam couldn't help but look over.

“Did you...?” he said.

Castiel shook his head. “All I did was offer you as free-labor for the afternoon,” he said “Everything else was you.”

Sam nodded, gaze drifting out the window. He had no reason to disbelieve Castiel, but he was still reluctant for some reason. He looked back at Castiel. “Did I really just get a job at a _bookstore_?”

Castiel laughed as he assured him that yes, that really happened and no, he wasn't dreaming.

 

The job was definitely an improvement on the last one. It was one Sam loved, it was one he was good at, and the only uniform to speak of was a light brown polo with the store name embroidered on the upper-left. And of course, it was only a 30 minute bus ride from the apartment—easy enough to walk on days he was running late or just wanted some fresh air. It was full-time, which Sam confessed he hadn't had in awhile. He seemed to get used to it quickly though, and in the meantime Castiel learned how to get breakfast started when Sam slept in and just turned down the TV when he fell asleep on the couch.

The new schedules made Castiel fell like they never got to see each other, but if he thought about it they actually saw _more_ of each other them before. Every morning, every night, and of course the weekends. Almost every moment Castiel didn't spend at work or sleeping was spent with Sam. Which was actually great. They watched movies, they read books and had in-depth conversations. When Castiel had to bring work back with him, Sam would just sit and play his guitar for hours on end. He offered to teach Castiel one time, but after about 15 minutes it was decided Castiel was not instrumentally inclined and should just...stop.

Having a roommate was actually rather easy, Castiel decided. Provided of course, that said roommate was Sam. And while things went great most of the time, there were moments that made things a little tense. Ignoring the usual arguments that popped up between two people sharing living space—dirty dishes left out, laundry, shared bathroom—there were other times. Time when a casual touch seemed more then casual, a glance lingered too long, or accidentally walking on someone in the shower led to thoughts that were better left unthought.

But all in all, things were great. Which probably should have been Castiel's first clue. 

 

#

 

Sam and Castiel were staying up later then usual, eating leftover Chinese with some boxed wine and watching Letterman. Sam had been quieter then usual that day, but Castiel hadn't thought too much of it. It wasn't till Sam sighed, leaning forward to set his plate on the coffee table, and then sat back did he wonder if something was up.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I've...just been thinking...”

“About anything in particular?”

Sam was silent for several moment, then he shifted in his seat so he was facing Castiel head on, an oddly serious look on his face. “Why did you stop?”

Castiel titled his head to the side. “Stop what?”

“The day we met,” Sam said as Castiel set his own plate on the coffee table. “Why did you stop instead of walking by like everyone else. I'm _definitely_ not complaining, but you said you didn't care for music, so why?”

Castiel paused, thinking back to that day so long—and yet, not very—ago. “I don't know,” he said finally. “I...never had a reason really. I just did.”

“Then why did you come back?” Sam asked. “Why, why visit me day after day. Why do you _care_?”

“Of course I care Sam,” Castiel said. “You're my friend.”

“But _why_?”

That made Castiel stoop again. Why indeed. Somehow it seemed obvious, and yet he almost couldn't put it into words. He had never felt the need to analyze it, but for some reason a definitive answer seemed to be important to Sam.

“You fascinate me,” he said, verbalizing the first thing that came to mind. “You constantly surprise me and exceed any expectations that I foolishly place on you. You're kind, and loyal, and so very passionate about the things you love. You're an inspiration. You...” He struggled for the correct words. “You make me want to try again. Try to be better then I am—better then I'll probably ever be. But you make me want to try anyway.”

Castiel was surprised at his own words, but Sam was practically dumbfounded, staring at Castiel with a mix of shock and awe. There was a moment pause, then suddenly Sam surged forward, cupping Castiel's face and covering his mouth with his. Castiel froze, and the moment after it started, it stopped, Sam pulling hesitantly away

“Sorry,” he said breathlessly, still deep in Castiel's personal space. “I...I just...” He started to pull away further, hands on Castiel's shoulders, but Castiel quickly reached up and grabbed his arm, holding him there.

“Wait,” he said., to both of their surprise..

And maybe—just maybe—he could blame it on the lateness of the hour, or the half-glass of wine sitting on the table, but if he was being honest with himself it was neither. It was just him who leaned forwards, slowly, and returned the kiss.

There was another beat when Castiel pulled about an inch away, glancing up to meet Sam's eyes.

And suddenly anything was not enough. Sam pressed him back into the couch, covering him and ravishing his mouth. Castiel had his hand tangled in Sam's hair, twinning brown strands as his hips bucked upwards. Moans, hands snaking up shirts and undoing buttons, roaming kisses. Somehow they got off the couch, stumbling down the hall. Against walls. Fumbling for doorknobs and belt buckles. Somehow they made it inside. Somehow they made it to the bed, rolling around on unmade sheets. Castiel had stopped thinking long ago, didn't even try. Nothing mattered anyway, right now, everything was Sam. Over him, under him, surrounding him. Sam. Sam. _Sam_.

And afterwords, as they laid next to each other and drifted off to sleep, his dreams were nothing but Sam.

 

#

 

Cass groaned as the morning light slatted across his face, making itself known. He must've forgotten to close the curtains last night. Attempting to escape, he rolled over, instinctively reaching for the second source of warmth in bed. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him even closer. Lips pressed a soft kiss into his hair. 

Castiel froze. His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring at Sam's collarbone.

“Good morning Cass,” Sam said into the top of his head.

Castiel sat up, eyes wide. Sam blinked up at him, arms bent at awkward angles not that they were empty. “Not a good morning?” he ventured.

“I...” Castiel looked around. “Where's my alarm clock?”

“Check the floor,” Sam said as he slowly stretched. “I think I heard something fall last night.” 

Castiel did, and sure enough there it was. It had also gotten unplugged, meaning Castiel literally had no idea what times it was. “I'm going to be late,” he said, scrambling out of bed and looking around for pants and underwear.

Sam groaned, still sprawled out on the bedsheets. “Come on, can't you just go in late? Or better yet call in sick, I'm sure they wont mind.”

“I-I can't,” Castiel said, grabbing the first things he could find in this closet and throwing them on. Luckily his wardrobe wasn't that varied, so he didn't have to worry about mismatching. “I have to...'m sorry, I can't.”

“Cass?” Sam said, brow slightly creasing. He sat up. “Cass is something wrong?”

“No,,,something...I just...I _can't_ I...” Castiel stopped. He looked at Sam, confused and worried, and maybe a touch of hurt. Castiel bit his lip nervously, then closed his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he said, grabbed his briefcase and practically ran out the door.

“Cass. Cass!” Sam called after him, but Castiel just kept going, not stopping until he was in his car and on his way.

 

#

 

 

“You did _what_?” Gabriel said.

“I ran,” Castiel said, face buried I his hands. They were in his office, Gabriel masquerading as Mr. Johnson, Castiel's 9 o'clock who had canceled the other day. Castiel just never told anyone. Despite the fact he had sequestered himself in his office for the day, Castiel was pretty sure he wasn't actually going to get any work done, and Gabriel had been his first call the second he sat down.

Gabriel sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Well at least you two finally did it, that's something.” 

“That's not being helpful,” Castiel muttered.

“Well neither is running away is it?” Gabriel said.

Castiel stared at him for a moment, then groaned and leaned back, sinking in his seat. “Oh God I've ruined everything haven't I?” he said, covering his face with his hands.

“No, not necessarily,” Gabriel said. “You've guys have know each other what? Almost eight months now? I'm pretty sure one mistake isn't gonna 'ruin everything', all right?” Castiel groaned softly but still nodded. “Besides, I'm not entirely sure what the big problem is.”

Castiel gave him a look. “Really?”

“What? You like him, he likes you, what's the problem? And don't your dare try and pull any of this 'we're just friends, it's nothing' bullshit because that ship has _so_ sailed.”

Castiel sighed softly. “Okay, yes. There's...something.”

“See? So again I ask, whats' the problem.”

“You know what the problem is Gabriel,” Castiel said, returning to his vigil for the ceiling. “I can't.”

“Seven years Cass. _Seven. Years_. Since that whole Meg debacle. Can you really not get over it?” Castiel stayed silent. Gabriel sighed and leaned forward. “Look, okay, I get it, you feel guilty. I'm not saying don't 'cause I know you wont, but just don't let your guilt stop you from finding happiness, okay? Don't you think she would have wanted you to be happy again?”

Castiel was silent for several moment, then closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Gabriel made sure.

“Okay,” Castiel said, glancing at his cousin to show he was sincere. 

“Good,” Gabriel said, sitting back. “Now, what are you gonna do next? You can't hide in your office forever, and Sam's gonna be there when you get back.”

Castiel let out a long sigh. “I know,” he said, scanning to see of the answer was somehow hidden in the ceiling tiles. Eventually he looked back down, letting out a long breath and drumming his fingers on the edge of his desk. “I guess...I just talk to him. Explain everything.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrow and nodded approvingly. “Well, I suppose that's very you. Now,” He leaned forward and propped his elbow on the desk, resting his chin in his hand. “Since that's taken care of, let's get some details on your magical night. You kinda glossed over that in your synopsis.”

Gabriel managed to dodge the stapler aimed at his head, but had no such luck with the box of paperclips. 

 

#

 

Castiel eventually did go home, dreading it the entire way. He stood outside the front door for a solid minute before finally taking a breath and opening the door. He didn't expect to almost run head-first into Sam, who looked just as shocked as he did.

“Sam?”

“Cass. I—I thought you were staying late.”

“I—“ Castiel looked and saw Sam had his bags over his shoulder and his guitar in his hand. “Sam, what are you doing?”

“Oh, I,” Sam said, looking down at his bags. “I, well. With...with what happened I figured, it would be best if I left.”

Castiel looked up at him. “Sam...you don't have to leave.”

“Are you sure?” Sam said. “Because I don't want to make things awkward or anything.”

“Sam...” 

“Cass. It's okay, I understand. It was a chance, it didn't work. It's fine,” Sam said. He smiled softly down at Castiel, who had been completely unprepared for this situation and was still floundering. Sam placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, smile turning sad as he walked past to the door.

The second the hand left his shoulder, Castiel turned around. “Sam.” he said. Sam paused in the doorway and looked back. “Sam. I don't...I don't want you to leave.”

Sam titled his head to the side. “Cass...”

“No, I...” Castiel took a step forwards, eyes on the floor and wringing his hands. “I'm not...ready for a relationship like that, but that's something I need to deal with and you shouldn't be punished because of it.”

“Cass it's okay, I get it,” Sam said.

“No.” Castiel said, looking up for a moment before his eyes dropped back down. “I...” He sighed. “I don't want you to go because of me. “If you want to leave I understand, but...I don't want you to...”

There was a long pause. Castiel didn't dare look up, waiting for the click of the door to tell him what he needed to know. It happened, but when Castiel did lift his head he saw Sam still standing there, sliding the bag off his shoulder.

“Okay,” he said. “I'll stay.”

Castiel looked shocked for a moment, then closed his mouth and hastily nodded, “T-Thank you,” he said, feeling the need to say something but not knowing what. Sam just nodded in return and silently took his things back into his room. Castiel watched, both thankful and panicked over what just transpired.

 

#

 

“You said _what_?” Gabriel said in shock.

“We talked like you said we should,” Castiel said.

“Yeah. That was when I thought you were going to tell him what happened in California and then you'd continue to have hot monkey sex with your secrets unburdened.”

“I'm not ready for another relationship Gabriel,” Castiel said.

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Gabriel said. “It's not like you have to get married. Test the waters, try things out. You don't have to jump into a serious 'relationship' right off the bat. Take the middle ground.”

“Friends with benefits?” Castiel said with a raised eyebrow,

“Why not?” Gabriel said. “Worked for me and Coyote.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don't think that would work. That's not what I want.”

“Than what _do_ you want?”

“I...I don't know,” Castiel said, covering his face. “I want things to not be so complicated.”

“Than stop making them complicated,” Gabriel said, exasperated. “Do you like him?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, glancing down.

“Do you want to be with him?”

“Y-yes,” Castiel said, quieter.

“Than _be_ with him,” Gabriel said. 

“It's more _complicated_ then that,” Castiel insisted.

“Is it?” Gabriel asked. “Is it really?”

Castiel didn't reply.

 

#

 

Back at the apartment, things had made their way to a semblance of normalcy. Sam and Castiel still ate breakfast together, they ate dinner together and still watched TV at night, Sam would sit on the couch and play for hours while Castiel worked or read. But things were still not the same. There wasn't that sense of easy companionship there had been before. Castiel finally understood now why people in movies were always so worried about “ruining their relationship” by dating a friend. Than tension in the air, it didn't go away. Or at least it didn't int his instance.

Castiel didn't sleep much. Partly because whenever he did he had strange dreams, but partly he just lied in bed thinking too much. Why were things so tense? He'd already admitted he liked Sam, and by all accounts Sam liked him as well. So? Part of him wondered what the issue was, the other part _knew_ what the issue was and depending on which side he viewed it from the other looked plain ridiculous. God why was this so hard?

_“I like you, you like me. What's the big deal?”_

Castiel rolled over, trying to get the still-so-clear image out of his head.

_“Why don't you just get over it and let yourself be happy for once? Is it really that hard?”_

 

#

 

It was midnight. The TV was off by now and they were in the kitchen, putting away the dishes from their Thai supper. Sam finished loading the dishwasher and set it to run while Castiel stood absentmindedly at the sink, watching the droplets slid down the silver bowl.

“Well, I'm heading to bed. Goodnight,” Sam said, heading out.

Two seconds. Then Castiel turned around suddenly. “Wait.”

Sam paused, looking back curious. Castiel gripped the counter behind him and nearly told Sam to never-mind. But, instead he took a breath and spit it out. “Why do you like me?”

“Why...” Sam said, a little confused. Castiel looked down, feeling like one of those sill teenage schoolgirls on pre-teen drama, confronting their crush for the first time. He heard Sam take step forward and looked up, blue eyes meeting ever-changing hazel.

“Honestly, it's hard to find something not to like,” Sam said, keeping Castiel's gaze. “You're smart, funny even if you're not trying to be. Gorgeous if you want to be vain about it. You stand y the people you care about, you're honest unless you're trying to help someone. You're good for the sake of being good—no hidden agenda. You always seem to know the right thing to say to make me feel better, even when I feel like I've hit rock-bottom. I always know you'll have my back. Your just...” He sighed, words failing him. “You're everything I've always hoped existed in the world, but had accepted to just be a foolish dream. You give me hope Cass. Hope that thing could be better.”

Castiel stared up at him for a few moments, then surged forward, capturing Sam's mouth with him. For a moment Sam was surprised, but easily got into it, finger's threading into dark hair and pressing Castiel back against the counter. After a minute or two Sam finally broke away.

“Wait,” Sam breathed, the both of them panting slightly in the close space. “Are, are you _sure_?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, hands fisting in the fabric of Sam's shirt. “Yes I'm sure.”

“Well okay then,” Sam said, picking up where they had left off.

#

 

Castiel woke with a small sigh. He glanced at his alarm clock—it wasn't time for him to get up, yet somehow he still felt relaxed, rested. More-so then he had in awhile. He heard shifting beside him and rolled over to face Sam, who was smiling softly at him. “Have you been watching me sleep?”

“What? No,” Sam said. “Well, maybe for a little, but it's not my fault you look so cure while you sleep.”

Castiel just turned back onto his back, rolling his eyes. Sam shifted closer. “So. Are we going to have a repeat of next time? Or...”

Castiel shook his head. “I'm not running this time,” he said, looking back at Sam. “In fact...I was actually considering calling in to work sick today.”

“Then you should probably get to a phone,” Sam said, rolling over so he hovered over Castiel.

“Hum. Maybe later,” Castiel said, pulling Sam down for a kiss. 

 

#

 

It was interesting how being in a new relationship made you think back on your old ones. Sarah Coleman was Castiel's first girlfriend, but that was mostly to try and get closer to his football-star brother. There were several others who tried that same thing—before and after Sarah. That was really the only way Castiel ever got a date in High School.

Second was his strange two month fling with Ricardo Montair freshman year of collage, which was also his first experience with that side of his sexuality. There had been others throughout his collage career, of varying degrees of seriousness. Mostly it was people scooping him up for their “free love” clubs and Castiel was to this day still confused about what exactly went on back then.

After collage was a few inconsequential. Test dates and four-month relationships, Tess Williams, Mark Gray, Melinda Lane, Georgia Peters. Nothing came to much, but it was hard to start a relationship when everyone was so focused on building their career.

Then there was Meg. Probably the first bad decision of a long string of bad decisions during that three-year period of his life.

And now there was Sam, and why he hesitated to call what they were doing “dating” (and not because of some “we can't use labels like that” reason. That had been Jessie Hopkins in “free love” club) he knew that their relationship was different then all the others.

For starters, aside from Meg this was the first relationship he'd had that emerged from a friendship. If he was _completely_ honest he'd been attracted to Sam for awhile, but having that background made things...different. Somehow, once they had officially “gotten together” Castiel expected something to change, some flow in their interactions to shift. But for the most part, life went along normally. They still quarreled over the laundry, ate take-out and watch Letterman at night. Castiel would go off to work in the morning and come home and Sam would be on the couch, playing his guitar and singing along sometimes. Really the only things that changed were the quick kisses stolen in-between activities, fingers laced and heads on shoulders while watching TV, and the guest room becoming open for guests once again. 

Really the only thing Castiel _dreaded_ about their new expanded relationship, is telling the rest of the group.

 

They stood in front of the door to Candelstop, Castiel looking up at the address numbers painted on the wall in golden, old-English inspired script.

“I'm sure it wont be that bad,” Sam assured him, squeezing his hand gently. 

Castiel just shook his head. “You don't know them like I do,” he said. “They probably placed bets.” 

Sam tried to stifle a chuckle and failed. “Yeah actually that sounds like them,” he admitted. “But it's not like things are going to change if we wait any longer.”

Castiel sighed. “You're right,” he said. “We might as well get this over with.”

Sam nodded and gestured for Castiel to go first, pushing the door open and letting it close behind him as they entered the noisy tavern. They quickly spotted the group at one of the back booths and made their way through the crowd. It was too early for a lot of people to be drunk, but that just made the early birds just that much more of a roadblock.

“Hey guys,” Coyote said as they approached the booth. “Little later then usual. Too busy snogging in the backroom?”

Castiel felt his face flare up and he whirled towards his cousin. “Gabriel!”

“Whoa, hold on there,” Gabriel said, leaning away from Castiel and holding up his hands. “Whatever you think I did this time I swear I didn’t do it.”

“That's a blatant lie.”

“Okay maybe not _whatever_ you think but I'm still pretty positive I'm innocent on this one.”

“Um, Cass,” Sam said, leaning towards the other man. “I don't think Gabriel even knows officially.”

That made Castiel back off. Oh. Right.

“Know what officially?” Gabriel said, slowly putting his hands back down.”

“Wait. _Were_ the two of you busy snogging in the backroom?” Daji said, a suggestive eyebrow raised. 

“I... _no_ ,” Castiel said. “But...Sam and I are...together now.” He reinforced this fact by taking Sam's hands again, fingers lacing together. Everyone's eyebrows raised.

“Whoa,” Brer said.

“I know, it's a bit surprising,” Castiel started.

“Actually, it's really not,” Daji interjected. “It's actually more of a surprise that you're admitting it.”

“I thought you guys were a thing since you moved in together,” Coyote confessed.

“I thought you two were still doing your little angst dance,” Gabriel said. “But glad to know you got over that.”

Castiel was a little stunned. “I...” Where were the 'I told you so's', the grumbling as people got out their wallets and 'you couldn't have waited two more days could you?'.

Sam leaned in again. “I think they're telling us we're predictable.”

“Damn right you are,” Gabriel said. “Now come on and sit down and have a drink.”

The two obeyed, and conversations dropped were picked back up as if there hadn't been an interruption. Castiel clutched his beer glass nervously. This strange calm was actually worse after the craziness he'd gotten used to. Not that there weren't congratulations and assurance that Castiel wouldn't have to drag anyone's drunken ass home (he doubted that) for awhile so he and Sam could enjoy the honeymoon phase.

About an hour after they had gotten there, Ananzi walked near their table and Coyote called after him. “Hey 'Nanzi! Sam and Cass finally made it official!” he told him.

“Congratulations,” was Ananzi's response, not even looking back. “'Bout damn time.”

That did it. Castiel sighed and sank in his seat. Beside him Sam chuckled, leaning down so that from Castiel's perspective, they were really the only two people around. “You okay?”

“I'm fine,” Castiel assured him, and he really was. “Just thought I was finally able to anticipate their reactions and prepare for them. Guess I was wrong.”

Sam chuckled again. “See? I told you it wouldn't be too bad.” He leaned in for a quick kiss. Then another. Then something a little longer.

Coyote made a noise, back above the table. Are we going to need to get a separate room for you two now?”

Castiel sat back up. “Come on Coyote. You and Gabriel make out all the time.”

“Only on special occasions,” Coyote corrected. “And that's different—we're friends. You guys are like actually dating, Eww.' He made a face.

Castiel rolled his eyes eyes and wondered—not for the first time—at the people who he associated with. Then he glanced at Sam, who smiled and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. Coyote pretended to gag and they all laughed, and Castiel felt all of his strange negativity just melt away. And for the first time in a long time, he actually enjoyed a night out with his friends, with no drama, no drunken house-guests, and a definite change, someone to sleep next to at night. Chest pressed against his back, arms and legs tangled together, and nose buried in the crook of his shoulder as he drifted off to the sound of their matching heartbeats. 

 

#

 

It was one of the rare days Sam refused to get out of bed in the morning, so Castiel was making breakfast instead. The eggs, were almost done when he heard the sound of a seashore down the hall. It stopped after a few seconds and turned into music, a guitar being played over it. He turned around as Sam strolled in, swaying in time with the music, wearing a loose pair of jeans and that old sweater Castiel had given him last winter.

“ _All I am, is a man. I want this world, right in my hands,_ ” Sam sang as he sauntered in, a barely suppressed grin on his face.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked.

““ _I hate the beach,”_ Sam sang in response. _“But I stand, in California with my toes in the sand._ ” Castiel rolled his eyes and pretend to ignore him, but it was really hard to ignore someone while they were dancing around you, singing.

“ _Yeah the sleeves of my sweater, let's have an adventure. Head's in the clouds, but my gravity's centered. Yeah touch my neck-_ ” Sam's breath ghosted over the back of Castiel's neck and he shivered slightly despite himself. “ _And I'll touch yours. You in those little high-waited shorts_.”

Sam hands rested on his waist and Castiel turned to half-glare at him. Sam retreated a few steps, slipping his guitar behind his back with a smile still on his face, continuing to dance to the music. “ _She knows what I think about. And what I think about. One love, two mouths. One love, one house. No shirts, no blouse. Just us, you find out, nothing I really wanna tell you about ohooh~_ ” He spun around and Castiel just shook his head and chuckled. Sam took this as encouragement and started walking closer again. “ _Cos it's to cold, for you here, right now. So let me hold, both your hands in, the holes of my sweater._ ”

Castiel sighed affectionately and couldn’t help but smile as Sam grabbed his hands, gently pulling him into the middle of the kitchen and into a simple dance. “ _And if I may, just take your breath away, I don't mind if there's not much to say. Sometimes the silence guides your mind, so move to a place so far away_.” He spun Castiel around, arms crossed in front of him with his back pressed into Sam's stomach. Sam leaned down to whisper-sing into Castiel's ear. “ _The goosebumps start race, the minute that my left hand meets your waist. And then I watch your face, put my finger on your tongue cos you love to taste_.” Castiel flushed and tried to break away, but Sam just laughed, turning him out into a spin then pulling him right back in. “ _These hearts adore, everyone that our heart's beating for. Inside this place is warm, outside it starts to pour. Coming down. One love, two mouths. One love, one house. No shirts, no blouse, just us, you find out, nothing I really wanna tell you about. No~ Cos it's too cold, for you here, and now. So let me hold, both your hands in the holes of my sweater._ ” 

The song came to a close and the sea sounds started again on a loop as Castiel finally was able to grab the pulls from Sam's hoodie and keep him in place. “Why?” he asked, looking up at Sam.

“Why not?” Sam replied. “I thought you liked my singing.”

“I do,” Castiel said, eyes trailing down to the chipping silk screen on his sweater. “But why that song?”

Sam shrugged, pushing his guitar behind his back and wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist and tugging him close once again. “Felt fitting.”

Castiel hummed softly, resting his hands on Sam's chest. “I didn't even realized you kept it.”

“Of course I kept it,” Sam said, spinning them slightly. “Not only was it a gift it's pretty damn warm.”

“Yes but I know you didn't like it when I pushed all that stuff on you,” Castiel said.

“Hey, hey,” Sam interrupted, ducking his head down so he was closer to eye level. “Let's not talk about the past, okay? Come on, let's go back to bed.”

Castiel snorted and pushed on Sam's chest. “I'm making breakfast,” he said. 

“Make breakfast later,” Sam said. “I'm not hungry.”

“I can't just _stop_ in the middle of making breakfast,” Castiel said. “Plus, I have work.”

“Sure you can,” Sam said. He spun them over to the stove and reached out, flipping the stove top off and sliding the pan of half-cooked eggs onto the counter. “See? Easy.”

“Sam!” Castiel scolded, wriggling around. Sam just laughed and held him tighter. “So, now that you're free...”

Castiel shook his head. “You're incorrigible.”

“I know. But that's why you keep me around,” Sam said.

“Maybe not the _only_ reason,” Castiel said, tracing the printed script with his finger.

Sam smiled and led them back down the hall towards the bedroom.

 

#

 

It was late May when Sam got a phone call from Samandriel. He was obviously happy at hearing from his friend that he hadn’t seen in awhile, and when the teen told him about the party he was having for Gary's birthday that Saturday he heartily agreed. When the day came though and they were in the park, Castiel couldn't help but notice a distinct lack of people around.

“Are we early?” Sam asked Samandriel—who was laying out an oversized picnic blanket.

“No, of course not,” Samandriel said. “I'm actually running a bit late.”

“Oh, so everyone else is coming later,” Sam said.

“Actually it will just be the four of us today,” Samandriel said. “A small gathering.”

“None of his other friends are coming?” Castiel said. “Coworkers?”

“No one I could get a hold of,” Samandriel said. “And I hate to leave so soon after you just arrived, but I need to go meet Gary and bring him here before he wanders into a family reunion.”

“Yeah, go on ahead. We can finish setting up if you'd like,” Sam offered.

“That would actually be very helpful, thank you,” Samandriel said. “The food's in the cooler, set it however you want. We'll be right back.” 

Sam nodded as Samandriel hurried down the path—a little more frenzied then Castiel had ever seen him--and headed over to the cooler. “Whoa. Someone got excited about cooking.” He started pulling out Tupperware containers and Castiel went over to help, but we mostly preoccupied in thought  
“It seems a little strange that none of Gary's other friends could make it,” he said, automatically taking the containers Sam was handing to him.

“Kinda, but I'm not to terribly surprised,” Sam said. “Gary's a hard person to get along with at first. Once you get past the unsettling occult obsession and the psudo-stalker behavior he's pretty cool, but it's hard to get past all that. Still. Pretty sucky on your birthday.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. He didn’t know Gary personally very well, but he did come off as rather strange. The kind of strange that one instinctively shies away from.

“I was actually pretty surprised when Samandriel said he was doing this,” Sam added as they continued to set out all of the food. “I thought Gary got on his nerves in the worst way. They'd have the weirdest arguments during work. Though I really have no idea what might've happened while I was gone. Maybe they resolved...whatever it was.”

As they finished setting the food out, Samandriel returned, Gary chatting along happily beside him. When eh saw Sam and Castiel though he froze. “Oh my God, what are you guys doing here?”

“It's a surprise,” Sam said, throwing his arms out to the side.

“Yeah it is pretty surprising, but why are you here?” Gary asked.

“It's for your birthday,” Samandriel said. “A surprise party. You mentioned you'd never had one, and I and I suppose this may not count as a strict party but it's something.”

“And there’s cake,” Sam said. “And a whole lot of food.”

“You-you guys did all this for me?” Gary said. “Oh my God, this is awesome!” he hopped over onto the blanket, looking over the spread, “Whoa, this is a lot of food...”

At this point Samandriel looked a little embarrassed as he took a seat on the blanket as well. “It took me awhile to find a gluten-free recipe book that had a decent cake, so I ended up making all the recipes.”

“You made all this?” Castiel said, impressed.

“I assisted,” Samandriel said. “Cook actually made most of it.”

“It's delicious,” Gary mumbled through a mouthful of pasta salad, forgoing a plate and cracking open the Tupperware container itself. “God I haven't had pasta since fourth grade when I stole half of Trevor's macaroni during lunch. I was out the rest of the week.”

“I'm glad you enjoy it,” Samandriel said with a small smile.

Gary finally took one of the plates Sam was passing around and loaded it up with several of the other sides. “So,” Gary said, managing to swallow his mouthful. “What have you two been up to? Haven't seen you in like forever.”

“Oh, nothing much,” Sam said, leaning back and sharing a quick glance with Castiel. “This may not come as a surprise but we've made it official.”

“Wow really? Congratulation,” Gary said, sitting up. “So do you have a date yet?”

“A date for what Castiel said, confused.

“For the wedding.” Castiel and Sam's eyebrows shot up. “You...look very shocked.”

“Yes. No, we're...we're just, we're just together, not engaged,” Sam said.

“Oh, really?” Gary said, looking over at Samandriel. “I thought you were already doing that?”

Castiel sighed and Sam just had to laugh. “Yeah, we've been getting that a lot,” he said. “But enough about us, it's your birthday. What's been happening with you?”

So the party went on. Sam was obviously happy at seeing his friends again, and Castiel found the teen a lot more interesting then he had given them credit for. Gary's jaw nearly dropped when Sam gave him a fourth edition copy of “The End of Borely Rectory”. Samandriel gave him one of those personalized name key-chain things, which must have been an inside thing, since Gary split into a smile and gave his friend a huge hug while Sam and Castiel gave each other confused looks.

After a few hours, most of the food was gone and they were running out of things to talk about, so they decided to go ahead and pack up. Sam and Castiel said their goodbyes—promising that they'd have to meet up again sometime—and with Gary 'Happy Birthday' one last time before heading home 

Sam sighed, wrapping an arm around Castiel's waist as they walked though the park. “That was fun.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. It was good to get out of the apartment for things other then work, and like Sam had said, Gary was actually a decent person once you got past the creep factor.

The couple walked down a shaded path, running next to the river. A pair of bicycles ran past them and Castiel suddenly got a feeling of deja vu. Beside him Sam chuckled. “Remember that time I got run over by a biker?” he said, shaking his head. “God I was so nervous, no wonder I didn't see that guy.”

Ah, that was it. But Castiel looked up at Sam. “Nervous about what?” he asked.

“Oh, I, um. I was planning on asking you out on a date,” Sam said, to Castiel's surprise. “The bike was a bit of a mood killer. I tried a couple times after that, but there always seemed to be something in the way. Convinced myself it just wasn't in the cards after awhile.” He looked down at Castiel with a small smile. “Funny how things work out, huh?”

Castiel nodded his agreement. Funny. Sam leaned down for a kiss and Castiel happily obliged, a hand sneaking up to tangle in his hair. Spring seemed like a lifetime ago, even though it was only a few months and Summer was now here. Funny how so much had changed in so little time.

Funny. 

 

#

 

Castiel was sitting in a field, reading a book under the shade of a tree. The leaves rustled and he glanced up as a slender women swung down to hang upside down above him, long brunette hair streaming down the brush the pages of his book.

“Hey Clarence,” she said with her usual grin.

Castiel shook his head as he closed and set his book to the side. “I'll never understand why you call me that.”

Meg laughed and fell down into the grass beside him. “Would it kill you to watch a movie once in awhile?”

Castiel smiled. “Maybe not,” he said, hand instinctively reaching out to grasp hers. He studied her for a moment, all smooth skin and curves. He leaned forward, brushing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. “I miss you,” he said.

Meg sighed and rolled back, staring up at the endless blue sky. “You're doing it again.”

Castiel was confused. “Doing what?”

“Lying to people you care about,” Meg said, head turning back to watch him. A dark purple bruise had appeared on her cheek. “Why don't you just tell him the truth?”

Castiel glanced away. “I can't,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I'm not allowed to discuss open cases.”

Meg scoffed and shifted to a more comfortable position on the grass. “And when has that stopped you before?” she asked.

“It should have stopped me several times,” Castiel said.

“So what's the real reason?” She looked up at him with hazel eyes, rimmed with red and separated by a small trickle of red.

“Because telling him makes it real.”

“And not telling him makes it fake?” Meg asked, a cut lip distorting her mouth as she spoke, blood coming from the corner. “What happened happened Castiel. You can't run forever.”

“What if I want to?” Castiel asked.

Meg smiled, the grass around her slowly stained by red. “You can't.” she said. She covered the red spot peeking through her white shirt with her free hand. “Let it go Castiel. Let me go.”

Castiel closed his eyes, tears escaping down his face. “I can't” he whispered, leaning close and resting his forehead against hers.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it makes it too real.”

He pressed his lips against hers as he felt her hand go cold and limp. He pulled back, letting out a shuddering breath.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm so, so sorry.”

 

#

 

Castiel woke to the sound of his alarm. He looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, as Sam shifted in the bed beside him. “Humm, Morning,” he said, beginning to stretch. “Got some hashbrowns when I went shopping yesterday. Those plus eggs?” he finally opened his eyes when Castiel didn't respond. “Cass?” His eyes widened. “Oh my God Cass, are you okay?”

Castiel was confused, then brought a hand up to his face and felt the tear tracks running down. He pulled his hand away and inspected the wetness on his fingertips. “Oh.”

“Cass, what happened?” Sam said as he leaned closer, wanting to comfort but not wanting to push just in case. “What's the matter?”

“It's nothing...Just a dream,” Castiel said, staring off into the distance.

“Cass...”

“Really Sam,” Castiel said, turning back to face his partner. “It's fine.” He gave a strained smile. “Hashbrowns sound great. I'm going to go take a quick shower first, okay?”

Sam nodded, but was still worried. Castiel gave him a quick kiss to try and assuage him, then got out of bed and into the bathroom.

He gave a shuddering breath as the warm water rolled around him, washing away the salty lines. It was a little embarrassing that he had cried during his sleep, but there wasn't anything to do about it now. Now he would just push past and return to normal, though the calender was saying 'normal' was going to be harder to fake as the days wore on. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle that quiet yet...but he could decide that later. 

He got out of the shower and toweled himself off, heading back into the room to get his slacks and a shirt. It was colder in the apartment then he liked it, but he wasn't sure whether that was because the building unit was busted again or just the temperature difference after the shower. Either way he didn't like it. Castiel walked out into the kitchen, where Sam was already cooking, flipping hashbrowns on the skillet. Castiel walked over and slipped his arms around his waist, pressing up against his back as a sort of apology for earlier as well as a desperate bid for warmth.

Sam tensed a little, but relaxed when he realized it was Castiel. He looked over his shoulder, smiling down at the other man. “Hey. What's up?”

“It's cold,” Castiel muttering into the fabric of Sam's shirt.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, a little,” he agreed, flipping the hashbrowns once more to make sure they were done before sliding them off onto a nearby plate. He grabbed the egg carton he had on the counter and took out a few eggs, cracking them into the pan and tossing the shells with Castiel still attached to him. Castiel didn't mind, he was the one intruding after all, plus it was comforting. The coffee maker burbled over by the wall, which was tempting, but resistible when the alternative was staying and taking in Sam's scent, mixed with fried eggs and hashbrowns. 

After a few minutes, Sam looked over his shoulder again. “Are you okay?” he asked

“Why do you ask?” Castiel said, resting his chin on Sam's back to look up at him. 

“You're not quite usually this clingy in the morning,” Sam said. “And you haven't even _touched_ the coffee yet.”

Castiel hummed, glad Sam hadn't specifically mentioned earlier—even though the question still hung in the air. “I'm fine—really,” he said “Sometimes things just hit you.”

“Okay,” Sam said, deciding to accept it. “But, if you ever wanted to talk about it...I'm here you know.”

Castiel nodded, pressing his nose into the space between Sam's shoulder blades. A question was nagging in his mind. He didn't really want to bring it up and disrupt the easy peace they had at the moment—especially after earlier—but his mind wouldn't let it go.

“Sam.”

“Um hum?” Sam hummed, giving up on making any semblance of an omelet and resorting to scrambled yet again. 

“Are you happy?”

Sam stopped, forgetting eggs and twisting around to face Castiel with a confused expression on his face. “What? Of course I'm happy Cass...Why would you think I wasn't?”

Castiel shrugged, looking down at the tiled floor. “I just...I'm not always a good judge of what people are feeling. I just wanted to be sure. I don't want you to be unhappy.”

Sam bent down a little and cupped Castiel's face in his hands, tilting it up so their eyes met. ”Cass,” he said. “I'm happy. And as long as I have you I'm gonna stay that way, okay?” His hands snaked down and wrapped around Castiel's waist as he swayed the both of them side to side. “And if something changes, we'll, I'll let you know. But that's probably never going to happen because I can't fathom a universe where this—” he nodded between the two of them. “Doesn't make me happy.” 

Castiel smiled despite himself—Sam had that effect—and nodded. He felt very foolish, but still wanted to be sure. Sam leaned forward and knocked their heads together. “Are you happy Cass?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, a little surprised at the truthfulness of his words, “Very.”

“Well good,” Sam said. “Because otherwise I would have had to spent the entire day fixing that and you would have missed work again and I know you hate it when that happens, so really we would've been back at square one and caught in a vicious cycle of movies and kisses and walks in the park and a bunch of other smoopy stuff. So.”

Castiel couldn't help but giggle, and that made Sam's smile grow even more. “Of course if you really _wanted_ to do that I'd be happy to oblige.” 

“Well, I really _do_ have to go into work today,” Castiel said. “But I suppose I wouldn't mind some of those kisses you mentioned...”

Sam grinned, immediately leaning in. Castiel found it was really hard to kiss properly when you were smiling. 

 

#

 

The days went by smoothly, though there was the usual tension Castiel felt this time of year. Sam noticed of course, but didn't mention it, letting Castiel tell him when he was ready. Castiel felt guilty keeping so quiet about him. He told himself it was because he legally _couldn't_ let him know, but a small part of him chimed in that that really wasn't an issue. Castiel sighed, frustrated himself at his stubbornness.

Gabriel was the one who knew the most, and therefore was keeping a very close eye on Castiel in recent days.

“So what's the plan?” Gabriel asked, cornering Castiel on his way back to the table at Candelstop.

“Plan for what?” Castiel said, not meeting Gabriel's eye.

Gabriel gave him a 'really?' look. “You know what I'm talking about.” Castiel sighed. Yeah, he did. “So what's the plan? Have you told him?”

“I...will,” Castiel said, unsure whether he was telling the truth or not. “At least enough of it.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, not fully believing him. “I'm going to be out of town next week. Yeah, I know, bad timing,” he said when Castiel looked up at him with panic. “But a friend called in a favor and I can't really postpone. I need to know you're going to be good while I'm gone.”

“I'll be fine Gabriel,” Castiel said. “I can function when you're not around.”

“Yeah well, I still worry,” Gabriel said. “Do you want me to say something to him? To cover all the bases or—”

“I got it Gabriel,” Castiel insisted. “I'm fine. I'll tell him what he needs to know.”

Gabriel nodded, satisfied enough, and they headed back to the table. Despite his instance, he was a little nervous at Gabriel's absence. Gabriel was a great at getting his mind of things, and this would be the first time he wouldn't be around for the anniversary. But, there were still a few days, so he held off on telling Sam.

They drove home after dropping Gabriel off at he apartment. Castiel glanced over at Sam, wondering if this would be a good time.

No. There were still a few days left. 

They spent almost every free moment they had together, watching movies, summer concerts, shopping in the city, even just walking around town and talking about nothing, hands entwined. Castiel was happy. Happy to not think. But there were times, when he was alone at work, or in those dim moments right before falling asleep, where images would creep in and he'd half to push them aside. _Not yet_ he'd think. _Not yet, I still have time. I don't have to rush it_.

He promised himself he'd tell him. He pleaded with himself to reconsider.

Eventually...the choice was made for him.

 

#

 

Castiel moved in a haze. His footsteps were too loud on the asphalt below him. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. The wind blew flatly against him, but he still pulled the tan trenchcoat draped over his shoulders tighter. Behind him, the once-familiar city faded away in the mist.

 

Life snapped into focus. Car horns blared in the distance amongst the drone of traffic. The sticky heat of California summer enveloped him. He slipped his gun out of it's holster, pressing himself up against the warehouse wall. His breath stuck in his lungs as he tried to keep himself from shaking. He was told to go alone, but he wasn't going unprepared. Mummers of idle conversation drifted to his ears.

 

He stood in the hospital, the lights blaring, making everything too sharp. Too real. Jimmy laid in the bed in front of him, separated by a pane of glass. The beep of the EKG was the only signal that the broken body was still alive. He slips his gun out of his holster. The holster from his belt. His badge from his neck. He lays them all on a crappy plastic chair near the door and pushes out of the too-real room. 

 

The warehouse was covered in mist, no sound except the faint creak of metal on metal as two bodies hung in front of him. He looked up at a copy of himself (it should've been him. It should've), bruised, bloodied, broken. Cuts covered his face, broken ribs evident, burn marks peeking out from ripped clothing as glassy blue eyes lost the struggled to stay open. Meg hung beside him, no better off, but her cuts were deeper. More personal. Brown eyes slowly opened.

 

Blood slipped through the cracks in his fingers. The body on the ground had stopped moving long ago, but he still clung to thin wrists and pale skin as stronger hands pulled him away. No no no no no.

 

“Come on. Come on, just a little faster.” The warehouse was in chaos as sirens blare out front. Jimmy slumped against him, supported only by sheer will. Meg was right behind, he could feel it. “Come on, just a little more.”

A scream. He turns around and Meg is several yards behind, Crowley’s arm locked around her throat as sirens grow ever closer. A knife flashes in his hands.

 

Castiel paced the dingy Motel room, wringing his hands. Jimmy was still missing. Meg hadn't contacted him. His badge thumped against hi chest awkwardly, an unfamiliar weight after so many months without it. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He shoves his hands in his pockets. Something crumples under his fingers and he immediately pulls it out.

 

1180 Waterford drive

Unit 14

8:30 pm

_come alone_

 

#

 

Castiel shot up, covering his mouth just in time to stifle his scream. He sat there, staring into the dark a shaking. He closed his eyes, as the inevitable washed over him, trying to keep his ground. 

The alarm clock went off. Sam sighed and stretched. “Morning Cass,” he said, reaching over towards the other side of the bed, but finding only a warm indent. He sat up. “Cass?” He heard a door fall shut and his head immediately snapped to it. After a few moments the shower turned on and his shoulders relaxed, but he hadn't

Castiel spent entirely too long in the bathroom, letting the enclosed space fill up with steam. It was relaxing and stressful at the same time. He stood there, gripping the sink so hard he feared something would break, as he tried desperately to push the images out of his mind. Eventually the heat to be be too much and he forced himself back into the bedroom to get dressed.

He moved on autopilot, simultaneously frustrated with himself and apathetic to everything. When he finally walked into the main area, Sam had already finished making breakfast. Two plates sat on the table, fresh coffee steaming up from a mug. 

“Hey,” Sam said, noticing Castiel standing there. “You hungry?”

Castiel shook his head, feeling a pang of guilt as his gaze drifted to the table.

“Oh,” Sam said, a little sad but understanding. “Well—”

“I should be going,” Castiel said. “Running a bit late...”

“Right, of course,” Sam said, shaking his head like he had been being silly. “See you this afternoon. I was thinking Mexican tonight, you in?”

Castiel nodded, honestly not caring, and turned towards the door.

“Wait.” Castiel turned back, and Sam was walking over to him with an amused smile. “Your tie is backwards.”

Castiel blinked, then look down. Indeed it was. He moved to fix it when Sam caught his hands.

“Let me,” he said, undoing the knot and flipping over the strip of cloth. Castiel just stood still as he expertly re-tied his tie, a fresh layer of guilt added on. He didn’t deserve this kindness. Sam didn't deserve this detachment. This silence.

Tie fixed, Sam leaned in for a kiss. Castiel returned it, but it was flat. Sam didn't say anything though, and Castiel didn't volunteer. They just said their goodbyes and Castiel walked out the door.

 

Castiel didn't go to work. Instead he drove out to the edge of the city and parked, overlooking the bay. It was strange how hard it was hitting this year. He leaned back in his seat, fiddling with the photo in his wallet.

Eight years.

Eight years and yet it felt just like yesterday when he heard her laugh and his hands were covered in her blood.

Eight years today.

 

When he finally did drive back it was dark, almost midnight according to his clock. Sam was surprisingly still up, Mexican take-out trash scattered on the coffee table and some infomercial for blenders on the TV. He looked up as soon as Castiel stepped through the door. “Hey. What's up?”

Castiel just shook his head, not saying anything. He just wanted to go to bed really.

Sam shifted to face him better, not giving up that easily. “Gabriel mentioned to me that this was a rough time of year for you,” he said. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” Castiel said, tamping down his annoyance that Gabriel didn't trust him. He had been right, but still.

Sam huffed slightly, a touch of annoyance on his features. “You don't have to go it alone you know. I'm here for you.”

“I'm fine,” Castiel insisted, heading towards the bedroom. Sam unsuccessfully bit back a sigh.

“You know,” he started, causing Castiel to pause. “I'm getting pretty sick of people saying they're fine when they're obviously not.”

“Well maybe you should stop doing it yourself,” Castiel retorted, unable to help himself.

“I never said I was innocent of it,” Sam said. “I'm just trying to say that I know something's wrong and I want to help.”

“I can handle things on my own, just like I have for the past eight years,” Castiel said, a pulse of anger underneath his words. “I don't need you coming in and trying to but into my problems. I thought you’d understand something like that.”

“Yeah, I understand, but I also understand that's not a healthy way to deal with your problems,” Sam said, frustration evident. “I'm just trying to help you.”

“I don't need you help,” Castiel said. “Like I said, I'm fine.”

“You know what,” Sam said, temper flaring as he got up off the couch and walked over towards Castiel. “That's what's _infuriating_ about you. You go around, trying to fix everyone else's problems, but the second someone tries to help you you turn them away.”

“My problems are _my_ problems. I don't need you or anyone else digging into them,” Castiel snapped. “I can handle myself. I'm not some damsel in distress.”

“Well, if you're so _offended_ by me giving a shit, maybe I should just go.”

“Well maybe you should!”

Silence fell as the words hung in the still air between the two. There was hurt in Sam's eyes, but even now Castiel didn't have the guts to open his mouth.

“Maybe I should,” Sam said, softly. Castiel stayed silent.

The door clicked shut behind Sam, bag over his shoulder and guitar in his hand. All of the air seemed to have been sucked out of the apartment with that click and Castiel felt suddenly very, very alone. He got ready for bed only because there wasn't much else to do. The TV got turned of, and the leftovers either went into the fridge or the trash.

As he laid down in the too-cold bed, he told himself he was protecting Sam. But from what?...That he couldn't really answer.

 

#

 

The apartment was quiet the next morning. The coffee maker seemed out of place in the stillness that permeated through and Castiel nearly resorted to talking to himself to fill it. Fortunately, the phone rang, saving himself from himself.

“Hello?”

“Cass, hey,” Brer said on the other side. “How are you doing?”

“Uh, holding on I suppose,” Castiel said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Sam showed up on my doorstep out of the blue last night and ended up sleeping on my couch,” Brer said. “I was wondering if you two got into a fight or something.”

“Sam didn't tell you?” Castiel asked.

“He wasn't in a very talkative mood when he came over, and I didn't ask,” Brer said. “Just offered him a beer and a cigarette. Took the beer, but said the smoke would mess up his voice. Probably not best to tempt the beast much anyway. Hid my needles and things too, just in case.” 

Castiel didn't really see Sam as someone who would do drugs like that, but then again Sam had surprised him before. Plus Brer would probably know more about that sort of thing then he did. But he felt such a pang of guilt to think that he had unintentionally hurt Sam so much there was worry he was going to fall into drug use. 

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Castiel said.

“Yeah well of course,” Brer said. “So, _did_ something happen? I know you're not usually 100% around this time of year.”

Castiel sighed. “We...got into a fight. Things were said that probably shouldn't have.”

“That sucks,” Brer said.

“Maybe it's for the best,” Castiel said. “It blew up so quickly, maybe we're just not meant to work together.”

“Whoa whoa whoa now,” Brer said. “You had your first fight, doesn't mean the end of the world for you two. Don't go on giving up in the first round. Why don't you guys just get some space for a few days, cool off? Then you guys can talk it out.”

“You're probably right,” Castiel agreed. “Thank you.”

“That's what I'm here for,” Brer said, grin evident even over the phone. “Did you want me to tell Sam anything?”

Castiel thought for a moment. Yes, he did...but what to say? What would he tell him? And what did he want filtered through Brer? Finally he settled. “Let him know...that whenever he's ready, usual time, usual place.”

“Okay then,” Brer said, sounding confused but not asking. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Castiel said. “And thanks again.”

The phone clicked and Castiel looked at it for a moment before replacing it. It was very good to know Sam was being taken care of and not sleeping in Motels again. Sam deserved so much more them him and his drama. That was a regret almost as painful as the one he already lived every year.

 

#

 

Four days later, Castiel was walking home from work when he saw Sam sitting on the stone bench, right around that corner. No bag, no guitar, just Sam, hands pressed together and contemplating the sidewalk until Castiel came up. He glanced up at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Castiel replied, taking a seat beside him. So much like before, but so, so different. “So.”

“So.”

They sat in silence for what seemed like ages.

“I do understand that you don't want to talk about your past,” Sam said finally. “I guess I was just tired of everyone keeping secrets from me.”

“I can understand that,” Castiel said, examining his hand sin his lap. “Maybe...maybe we're just not meant for this kind of relationship.”

Sam looked at Castiel, surprise and a touch of hurt in his mouth. He closed it, then gave a jerky nod. “I-if that's that you think...”

“I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it while it lasted,” Castiel said. “Just maybe it wasn't supposed to last.” The problem was obviously him. He didn't even feel the need to mention it it was so obvious.

“But...I'd...I'd still like for us to be friends,” Castiel added, looking up hopefully. Sam was focused on some point on the sidewalk. “I understand if you don't...but...”

Sam finally looked up. “I'd very much like to still be your friend,” Sam said. He smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Your friendship is one of the most important things to me.”

“Yours as well,” Castiel said, nodding his agreement. He started to go in for a hug, but caught himself wondering if he was actually going in for a kiss. And was a hug too intimate? In the end, he ended up making a sort of aborted hug jerk, then settled on an awkward nod before getting up.

“Well, I’ll...I'll see you later,” Castiel said.

“Later,” Sam said, nodding, that sad smile still lingering. “By Cass.”

“Bye Sam,” Castiel said, wand walked down the street to his empty apartment

 

#

 

“I leave town for _nine days_ and look what freaking happens,” Gabriel half-shouted, half-eye rolled. “What the _hell_ did you do? Or didn't do really?”

“It wouldn't have mattered if I told him anyway,” Castiel insisted.

“Oh really? How do you know? Did you try? Did you go back in time but got the same result so you were like 'humm, guess I like the original time line better' and came back here? Did you?”

“Why are you so mad anyway,” Castiel said. “It wasn't your relationship that fell apart.”

“I'm mad because you keep sabotaging yourself,” Gabriel said, slamming the table in frustration. “You're refusing to let one good thing into your life, and that's not penance, that's avoiding.”

“Isn't that what you do all the time though?” Castiel said. “Avoid? You ran away from home when we were teenagers. You go on crazy adventures all the time to not have to not be responsible for anything. You drink yourself into a stupor every other night.” He stood up, chair clattering behind him as he braced his hands on the table. “Stop trying to fix me when you're just as bad off.”

He turned to leave but Gabriel stood up as well. “Wait.” Castiel paused, and turned back around. “Yeah, you're right. I'm running. And the past I'm running from is something I'm going to have to face sooner or later, I get that. So yeah, forgive me for trying to take my mind off the fact that I ran away from my family and screwed up my relationship with the new one I had found. But I'm not at that crossroads yet, so I'm damn well gonna enjoy myself till I am.” He leaned over the table, looking Castiel dead in the eye. “You on the other hand, are at the crossroads now, and you have to decide which is more important: avoiding what you've done, or Sam. And you better decide soon before the whole thing is moot.” 

Castiel was a little surprised at the intensity of Gabriel's statement, but didn't say anything. Insisted he just turned and headed out the door. Behind him, Gabriel just sighed and slumped back into his seat.

 

#

 

If Castiel said things went back to the way they were, he would be lying. One the outside sure, it may have seemed like that, but there were definite differences. They didn't meet as often, and there conversations weren't as in-depth and easy going as before. Lines that were blurred before were now razor sharp, and crossing them a constant fear. It was frustrating. Castiel wanted his friend back, but it seemed he had ruined even that. 

The rest of the gang seemed to stay out of if for the most part. All innuendo jokes stopped, pressure on the two of them slowed down. Their tiptoeing was actually a little unsettling. Castiel just sat there, waiting for that one magical moment where everything would just click, they'd all laugh, and they could put all of the awkward relationship stuff behind them.

Castiel was so caught up in his frustrations however, he hadn't even noticed how all this was effecting Sam.. They were at Candelstop one night, Castiel was at the bar getting another round, when he noticed Sam—who had said earlier he was going to the bathroom—heading towards the door.

“Sam?” he said, causing the musician to jump slightly and turn back around with a sheepish look on his face. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, I...well—you know,” Sam stammered, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging awkwardly. “Just...figured I'd head out. Things seem to be winding down.”

The main band hadn’t even finished their first set and this was only the groups third round. He eyes Sam suspiciously. “Are you feeling well?”

“What? Yeah, yeah I'm fine,” Sam said.

“Then why are you trying to sneak away?”

Sam looked like he was about to protest, but then just sighed. “You got me. I just...don't want to make things awkward.”

Castiel looked at him. “Sam...they're your friends too.”

“Yeah, but.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Man this is so messed up.”

“I'm sorry,” Castiel said.

“No, don't be sorry, you were right. I've never been good with relationships, so I guess it was only a matter of time before this one self-destructed.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. “Right, of course. Only a matter of time. Right...”

Sam shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. “So...” 

“So,” Castiel echoed. Just then then the bartender came back with the drinks. Castiel thanked him with a nod, then turned back towards Sam. “Want to help me with these?”

Sam smiled and picked up the larger half of the drinks, walking with Castiel back to the table. On the way, he gently nudged Castiel's shoulder with his own. Castiel smiled and nudged back, finding comfort in the easy gesture. Okay, so I might not have been the magical click he hoped for, but it was a step in the right direction. 

 

#

 

It was a week later when Castiel was inspecting the sad state of his refrigerator when the phone rang. “Hello?” he said.

“Hey Cass,” Sam said on the other side—much to Castiel's surprise. “Umm...can, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course,” Castiel said. “What do you need?”

“Well, umm. I've been staying at Brer's place since...you know. And he hasn't said anything, but I feel it's time for me to get off his couch by now. But I'm pretty tired of living in Motel rooms now so I figured I should just get my own apartment,” Sam explained. “I found a pretty good one in the city, but you see...I've never rented an apartment on my own before, so. Well I want to make sure it's not _too_ good of a deal you know? And now that I've been rambling incoherently for ten minutes, I was calling to ask if you would come with me to the showing to make sure it checks out?”

“Of course,” Castiel said. “I'd be happy to.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. “The appointment’s tomorrow at three, I'll text you the address and meet you there. And maybe...” He seemed hesitant to say the next part. “Maybe afterwords we can hang out?” 

“I'd like that,” Castiel said with a smile. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

He hear the sigh of relief Sam let out. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.” They hung up. Castiel looked at the phone for a moment, a small smile still ghosting his features as he replaced it in the cradle. Things were definitely looking up.

 

The next day, Castiel stood on the street in front of the apartment building Sam had texted him. The realtor stood next to him, tapping her heeled shoe and checking her watch every few seconds. Castiel checked his as well. 3:17 Not unreasonably late but...

His phone rang and he stepped away to answer it. “Hello?”

“Cass! Oh my God I'm so sorry. The bus I was on got caught in this traffic jam because of this wreck on eighth, so I got off and decided to hoof it but I'm still like thirteen minutes away.”

“That okay, don't worry,” Castiel said. He looked over his shoulder at the realtor, mouthing 'traffic' and 'ten minutes'. She seem to try very hard not to roll her eyes. 

“You don't have to wait for me,” Sam said. “I've made you stand outside long enough. Go on ahead in, you can give my your first impressions when I get there.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel said.

“Yeah, totally. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“All right then,” Castiel said. “See you soon.”

They said goodbye and Castiel turned back towards the realtor. “He said to go on ahead.”

“Excellent,” she said, gesturing to the door of the building. “If you'll follow me Mr. Novak.”

They headed into the building. An overall drab affair, with a bored looking attendant behind the front desk, listening to some old woman complain about the smell coming from her neighbor’s apartment.

“It's _horrendous_ , and he wont open his door even though I've been knocking for the past twenty minutes—”

“It's a rather old building,” the realtor informed him, drawing him away from his eavesdropping as they entered the elevator. “It has some history. Just down the street was a famous burger place that tragically shut down during the recent recession. A shame.” She shook her head like it was the most terrible tragedy she had ever heard as she pressed the button for their floor. “But there's plenty of other great venues around. The building is of great construction, surviving the worst storms that have hit this area. There have been some troubles with the electrical systems in the past, bu the building mangers have assured me that it's all taken care of now.”

Castiel nodded as she spoke, only half listening. The elevator stopped and let them out, and they headed down the gray, carpeted hall towards the apartment they were seeing. Castiel though he could smell what the old women downstairs was complaining about. It was rather horrible, like burning dust from a toaster that hadn't been used in awhile. He wrinkled his nose slightly.

“If you don't mind me asking,” the realtor said. “How long have you and Mr. Winchester been together?'

Castiel looked at her wide-eyed. “Oh, I'm not—we're not...” He cleared his throat. “We're not together. I'm just helping out a friend.”

“Oh, ah, terribly sorry. I assumed.” She chuckled nervously. “Wont happen again, my apologies.” Castiel nodded his understanding, deciding to forgo the story of how they _had_ been together but broke it off because of a stupid fight. He didn't need to air out his dirty laundry in front of strangers, why would he even think about it?

The relator finally got the key out of the lock box and opened the door, gesturing for Castiel to go inside. She immediately went into her spiel about the place, while Castiel looked around, not really paying attention. It was small, and a little musty from sitting unused. There was a window on the opposite wall, a bathroom and bedroom off to the side, and a kitchenette in the corner. It took less then five minutes to see everything, but overall it wasn't bad. Hot though, which made Castiel shift uncomfortably. Come to think of it the hallway had been warm too.

“I'm sure the building maintenance is already working on the heating and cooling system,” the relator said, pulling at her collar. “They have a very efficient maintenance staff here, I'm actually surprised there's a heating problem at all.”

Castiel hummed slightly as he walked over to inspect the kitchenette more closely. Sam should be there in a few minutes. It was a good apartment, small but big enough for one person. The heat of course was distracting, and the smell. He sniffed, and the scent was a lot more like smoke now. He stopped, sniffing again as his instincts suddenly went on high alert. The soles of his feet felt warm.

“I think we should get out of here,” he said.

“Oh it's a really great place,” the realtor insisted as Castiel strode out of the kitchen. “And the heat's not _that_ bad.”

Before Castiel could explain that wasn't it, there was a cracking sound and suddenly the floor begin to crack and sink in. A large hole opened up in the linoleum of the kitchenette, flames licking up from below. The relator screamed in surprise and fear as Castiel just pushed her towards the door. “Go!” he commanded as the floor continued to crack. He managed to get the doorknob open and push her through, before he felt the floor underneath his feet shift. The realtor shouted as Castiel lost his balance and fell back, back into the hole splintered through the floorboards into the apartment below. 

He felt himself free-fall for a few seconds before slamming into the floor below him with a sickening crack. He wasn't sure if the sound cam from him or the weakening floor, but either way it wasn't goo. He groaned, turning into a cough as smoke filled his lungs. He tried to get up, but his head swam so much and his ears rang after the fall, he knew it would be no use. Coughed again, he laied back down as some kindergarten lesson in the back of his head told him there was clear air down there. Everything was too hot. He heard the crackling of the fire around him, the shouts of the realtor, and—thankfully—the distant sound of sirens. His muscles ached and it hurt to breath. It hurt so much. He took in gasps that just made him cough harder and get out of breath faster. As his vision begin to darken, he thought darkly that death had finally caught up with him, just eight years late.

 

#

 

The steady beep of the EKG machine was annoying as ever. Castiel groaned as his eyes blinked open, still half-screwed shut in the bright light, and looked up at the institutional white, tiled ceiling above him. Of course he was in a hospital, but the fact surprised him nonetheless. He tried to sit up, but his sides started screaming in protest so he gave up, starting to cough in the process.

“Hey! Hey guys! He's awake!”

Castiel turned at the familiar voice and saw the entire gang crammed into the hospital room, surrounded by flowers and multicolored balloons. Right at his bedside was Gabriel, who had been the one to shout earlier, and who had just a touch of red around his eyes. He practically jumped on top of Castiel, squeezing his cousin tightly. “God dammit Cass don't scare us like that!”

“I-I'm sorry,” Castiel said, bringing up a hand and patting Gabriel shoulder. “I'll try harder next time to avoid apartment building that suddenly burst into flames.” Gabriel pulled away and gave Castiel a look that said that wasn't as funny as he meant it, but otherwise didn't say anything. “What exactly happened anyway? I know there was a fire.”

“Yeah,” Coyote said. “It was a bad one. Took out half the building.”

“Firemen got it before it spread to the rest of the block, but just barely,” Brer told him.

“Apparently some idiot overloaded his electrical socket and started the whole thing,” Daji explained. “Fire ate through the insulation in the walls which is why it spread so fast.”

“Poor planning, faulty wiring, and an old building,” Ananzi said. “A little surprised it didn’t burn down sooner.”

“It was mostly empty at the time so only three people died,” Gabriel said. “The guy who started the thing and some people who got caught in the elevator before the word got out. You on the other hand got away with smoke inhalation, some second degree burns, and a few broken ribs. Doctors want to keep you for a few days to make there aren't any complications, but they say you'll make a full recovery.”

Castiel nodded, thankful for the information. “And...and Sam?”

The group exchanged looks. “He was here,” Daji said. “He sat right by your bed while you were still unconscious.”

“We weren’t sure if he was ever going to leave really,” Brer said. “The rest of us were in the cafeteria getting something to eat. By the time we came back though he was just gone.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, looking down at the neatly tuck bed he was lying in. he supposed it didn't surprise him, Sam definitely didn't like hospitals. However, he noticed Gabriel glancing away nervously out of the corner of his eye. He sat up a little. “Gabriel...what did you do.”

Gabriel sighed. “Okay, so I might've gotten into a fight with him before he left,” he admitted, to everyone's surprise. “And...maybe as part of the fight I kinda blamed him for you being there and getting hurt.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel said

“I was upset okay?” Gabriel said. “I was upset, he was upset, words were going to be spoken. And it's not like I was _wrong_.”

“Gabriel!”

“I regret it okay?” Gabriel said. “I'm sorry, and the next time I see him I'm gonna apologize. I was just mad, okay?”

Castiel sighed. “It's fine Gabriel, I understand.” He didn’t know anyway, he couldn't have. “We'll just, see what happens.”

 

The next couple days kinda blurred together. A stream of doctors and acquaintances. Some people from his work came by with cards and flowers, some employes from Sullivan’s and Candelstop. A representative from the Realtor came by, offering tons of discounts and specials as well as an official apology from the company for the incident. Even Gary and Samandriel came by, which was nice. They said they had heard about it on the news and had tons of questions Castiel did his best to answer. He also filled them in on what he knew about Sam, who neither had heard form in awhile as well. Brer had said when he went home, all of Sam's things were gone, so Castiel figured he must be halfway across the country by now.

One or more of the gang were in his room at all times, there to chat, or just get him whatever he needed. What he _really_ needed was Sam, but since that ship seemed to have sailed, he'd settle for some peace and quiet. That was why he enjoyed it when Ananzi was the one “babysitting” him. He seemed to be the only one who understood the need for silence. Yet whenever he was in the room was the time Castiel felt he needed to talk the most.

“I almost died, didn't I?”

Ananzi glanced up from the paper he was reading, waiting.

Castiel continued un prompted however. “I knew, really. I always knew, but the reality of what that means just hit me I think.” he looked down at the pale blue hospital blanket. White bandages covered burns and cuts on his hands and arms. Tight gauze wrapped around his ribcage, hiding dark bruises, holding his insides together. He felt the cuts burn slightly on his face as he brought up a hand to touch them. “I'm not a stranger to death,” he told Ananzi.

“Neither am I,” Ananzi said. Castiel looked at him.

“So why is this time so different?” he asked.

Ananzi looked back at his paper before answering. “Maybe this time you had more to lose. 

 

#

There was a knock at the door and Castiel looked up from his book to see Sam leaning in the doorway, a soft smile on his face and his hands in his pockets.

“Hey Cass,” he said.

“Sam,” Castiel said, closing his book and setting it to the side. “I wondered where you had gone. I...I didn't know if you were coming back.”

“Honestly?” Sam said as he strolled into the room. “I didn't know either.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair and keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “Cass...”

“You don't have to apologize Sam,” Castiel said. Sam looked up at him confused. “In fact I should be the one apologizing to you.”

“What?” Sam said. “I was the one who asked you to visit an apartment that then burned down with you inside.”

“But you had nothing to do with it. It was a completely random event,” Castiel said.

“If I hadn’t as—”

“Sam,” Castiel snapped, startling the musician into silence. “Stop.”

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, but ultimately stayed silent.

Castiel sighed softly, looking down the the bedsheets for a long moment. “I haven't told you a lot about what happened while I was in California.”

“Cass, you don't—”

“Let me finish,” Castiel said. Sam's jaw clenched but he nodded. “I haven't told you a lot about what happened, but I should have. I should have a long time ago. And since...and since it's why we broke up, you deserve to know.”

Sam kept himself from saying anything, letting Castiel say his piece. Castiel let out a slow breath, eyes tracing the bandaged wrapped around his fingers and wrist.

“After high school I moved up to Chicago to go to school. Jimmy had stayed back in Florida to go to community collage for a few year to get his GPA up, so I was one my own on the other side of the country. I'm not the most conversational of people, and I was working full-time at a local retail store while still trying to juggle a full class-load. As a result I ended up losing touch with most of my family. Jimmy was the only one I made a noticeable effort to keep in touch with, but he had his own schoolwork and things were getting serious with Amelia so even we drifted apart.”

“It was during my Sophomore year when some representatives came to the school to talk about joining the FBI. I had done very little thinking on what I would do after school, and when I talked with them I found out they had noticed my test scores and were hoping I'd consider applying. So after I got my Masters degree I did, and two years later I moved to Virginia to start my training at Quantico.” 

“So you were an FBI agent?” Sam said, unable to keep quite anymore. Castiel nodded.

“It wasn't all like what you see in the movies and on TV,” he said. “I worked behind a desk for most of my first two years, then I was active in the field for three. Then the head of my department approached me one day and asked if I would be willing to do an undercover gig in California for a few months.”

He sighed, turning over his hand as he considered how to say the next part. “It wasn't supposed to be anything big,” he said. “Not only was it my first time undercover, but the chances at getting into the opening were slim. They had been investigating this crime boss operating mostly out of Los Angels for the past few years. Not much was known about him expect he went by the name Crowley and was responsible for vast shipments of drugs and guns that were coming in and out of the port. He was definitely a big fish, but some of the other agents were starting to get hints that Crowley was only one part in something much, much larger. My goal was to get in just enough to confirm the connection, then make a gradual exit.

“They already had an operative close to the organization, posing as a low-level dealer of their product. He was the one who got me interview with Crowley, which I almost blew and only saved when I took out three of his guards to 'prove I was more then I looked'. Fortunately Crowley was not only in a good mood, but had recently been saddled with a higher-ups daughter whom he didn't much care for, so he hired me to be he bodyguard and keep her out of his hair.”

“So you were a bodyguard in California,” Sam said.

“I was, much to the Bureau's chagrin, but it was too good of an in to jeopardize. It also went on a lot longer then it was supposed to—more like a year and a half instead of a few months, but that wasn't even the biggest mistake I made on that assignment.” He closed his eyes. “I fell in love.”

Silence hung in the room until Sam spoke. “Oh.”

“I definitely didn't mean to,” Castiel said, forcing himself not to look over at Sam. “But I suppose that how these things usually go. She found out I was undercover eventually, but didn't rat me out. I did eventually get burned though, which is when everything fell apart.

“Turn out Crowley had an agent in his pocket for years who had come in to take care of some restrictions we had placed on his upcoming shipment. And of course it as someone whom I had got to the academy with and would recognize me on the spot. My only hope was to try and run but that just made things worse. They found out Meg knew I was an FBI agent—she denied it the entire time but Crowley wasn't stupid. Then, to make matters worse, Jimmy appears out of nowhere with Amelia and five-year old Claire for a family vacation of all things. Ion spots him on the street and thinks he's me and...well I'm sure you can guess the rest. Meg gets killed, Jimmy almost get's killed, all because I was stupid and tried to get them out of the warehouse myself instead of getting backup.”

He sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Jimmy was in the ICU for about a week. I stayed until he was stable, then sent my resignation into the {head person} and headed east.” Castiel finally let himself look over at Sam, who was staring at the floor, connecting everything Castiel had just told him when what he knew before. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before,” Castiel said when Sam was silent for awhile. “Technically I should never have told you since the investigation is still open, but...if I was completely honest...” He looked down at his lap as Sam looked up. “I was just scared.”

“Scared of what?” Sam said. “You know my story. I understand screwing up and running away.”

“It's not that,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “I was...I was scared that if I told you...then I couldn't pretend it was just a bad dream anymore. That, that someday I'd wake up and it'd all be back to the way thing were, instead having to face reality.”

Sam's expression was a mixture of sadness and hurt that made Castiel's heart clench painfully at the sight of it. He hated having to say the next part. “And...I was right.”

Sam's head snapped up, a kaleidoscope of emotion crossing over his features, finally settling on something similar to regret. “I see,” he said.

“But I'm starting to think that that's not really a bad thing,” Castiel continued, looking back down. “Maybe it's time I stopped running from my past.”

Silence fell for a minute. Then Sam spoke up, voice soft. “So what now?” 

“Now...” Castiel said. “Now I go visit my brother.”

Castiel wasn't sure what kind of reaction he expected from Sam, but it definitely wasn't the look of shock he had on now. “You're...you're leaving?”

“I have to,” Castiel said. “It's just for a little while. I just have to see him, tell him I'm sorry, even if he doesn't forgive me—and he shouldn't. I just, I need him to know.” 

Sam was quiet. “So you're leaving.”

“For a little while,” Castiel said, wondering why Sam seemed stuck on that. “I'll be back—probably in a day or two. And I can't leave the hospital till the end of the week anyway.”

Sam was shaking his head though. “You're leaving, You're running away.”

“I'm not running _away_ ,” Castiel said. “I'm making amends” Part of him said that he shouldn't be angry, but he was. “Besides. You were the one who disappeared for three days while I was in the _hospital_.”

Sam winced. Part of Castiel felt satisfied. Part of him felt sick. “Well maybe I should have stayed away longer if you were just going to bolt the first chance you got,” Sam snapped back.

“I'm not bolting, I'm trying to fix as many of my mistakes as I can, instead of hopping from town to town avoiding them.”

“At least I didn't hole myself up in some anonymous city trying to convince myself my past was just a bad dream,” Sam retaliated.

Castiel's fist's clenched. The steady beep of the EKG machine speed up and he tried to calm himself down before the nurses came in. His throat was beginning to burn from the almost yelling. 

“I don't understand why you're so upset about this,” Castiel said with forced calm.

“Because you said you weren't going to leave me,” Sam said, so quiet it sounded like a shout. Castiel was stunned into silence as Sam continued. “Because I just started to believe, that things would be different now. Better. That you were different from all the others and maybe...maybe the worst was over and we could actually be happy.” He bowed his head. “But I guess not.”

“Sam,” Castiel said, but Sam didn't respond. He just turned and walked out of the door. “Sam!” Castiel called out, to no avail. He scrambled to get out of his hospital bed, wincing as his motions jerked the IVs in his arms. Blood started to well out of the punctures and down his arm as he got onto his feet and grabbed onto the hanger for support. He must've taken off some sensor because half the alarms in his room went off as he stumbled towards the door. “Sam!” He called out again as a swarm of nurses and doctors surrounded him. He thought he saw familiar, brunette locks, but it it was Sam he was quickly swallowed up by other hospital visitors ans the sea of staff that was ushering him into his room. Castiel let himself be pushed back, set down on the bed and vitals checked over. He was in a daze, barely listening as his doctor chastised him for getting out of bed. It didn't matter. There was no point in breaking hospital protocols. He would be released at the end of the week, stay at his apartment long enough to pack, then head out to Chicago on the 11 'O clock flight. He'd get his answer, and life would return to normal.

He had stayed still. And Sam had kept running.

 

#

 

Castiel walked slowly up the concrete path to the front door, looking up at the plain, white house. The sky was clear as he lifted his suitcase up the three steps and onto the porch. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

There was the sound of movement on the inside, followed by footsteps, then the door opened to an almost mirror image of himself, dressed in a light blue shirt and sweatpants. His eyes widened as Castiel shifted awkwardly on the welcome mat.

“Hello Jimmy,” Castiel said, eyes focused on the bottom of the door jam.

Jimmy didn't reply. Just stepped outside and pulled his brother into a tight hug. 

 

#

 

Castiel stared at the strip of trees behind the Novak house, head reeling from how _easy_ it had been. Three days ago, he was convinced Jimmy hated him and would never want to see him again. Now he was standing on his deck at a grill party with half the neighborhood invited. A grill party for _him_. It was almost impossible to believe.

“Hey,” Jimmy said, breaking Castiel out of his reverie. He handed Castiel one of the beers in his had, which he took with a nod. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel said automatically. “I'm fine.”

Jimmy snorted as he popped the cap of his beer. “I've literally known you since before we were born and you're gonna try to _lie_ to me?” Castiel smiled and shook his head, looking down at the wood boards. “Let me rephrase. What's wrong?”

“Noth—“ Castiel started, but stopped when Jimmy raised an eyebrow. He sighed. “I'm just…surprised.”

“Surprised? Surprised about what?” Jimmy asked.

Castiel shook his head and looked up to the night sky. They were close enough to the city that there was still a lot of light pollution, but there were definitely more stars here than back at his place. “I'm surprised...that you don't hate me.”

“Hate you? How could I hate you?” Jimmy asked. Castiel's gaze flickered down and Jimmy immediately shrank back. He unconsciously rubbed a hand over the thick, pale scar peeking out from his rolled sleeves—only one of many. “Oh. Right,” he mummered. Then shook his head and faced his brother again. “But that wasn't your fault Castiel.”

“Was it?” Castiel said, looking back down. “If I hadn't been so stupid and prideful.”

“Castiel,” Jimmy said, putting a hand on his brother's arm.

“If I had called for backup, or given them a different time for the meeting instead of rushing in there alone—”

“ _Castiel_.”

“If I had just been _faster_ , then maybe she—”

“Castiel!” Jimmy said, punctuating it by shaking his shoulders. He waited until Castiel re-focused on the present, blue eyes met blue. “I forgive you, okay? Is that what you need? I. Forgive you. And I'm sure she does too. Okay?”

Castiel waited. That wasn't what he was after. He didn't deserve forgiveness, he deserved to be punished. He should leave. He should push Jimmy away again and leave right now, not go back to New England. Go somewhere new and start over again. Somewhere warm.

Instead he nodded, keeping his feet firmly in place. “Okay.”

“You sure?” Jimmy confirmed. Castiel nodded again. “Good. Now.” He took Castiel's beer just long enough to pop the cap off, then handed it back to him. “Drink. Laugh. Be merry. Burgers will be ready in ten minutes—I assume you haven't changed that much in eight years?

Castiel smiled and shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Don't know if I could've handled it if you had forsaken burgers in your absence,” Jimmy said jokingly, flashing a grin at Castiel. Castiel returned with a smile, then looked around at the other attendees. The only ones he knew were Amelia and Claire of course, the rest being Jimmy's neighbors. He wondered the merits of having a celebration for him with a bunch of people he didn't know, when he noticed the song that was playing over the speaker set up by the sliding door.

“ _I do believe its true, that there are roads left in both of our shoes. But if the silence takes you then I hope it takes me too_ _._ ”

“What's this?” Castiel said, looking up as if he could see the music drifting across the sky.

Jimmy glanced over his shoulder. “What's what?” 

“This song,” Castiel said, almost growling.

“The song? Oh I don't know, I let Clare take care of the music. By some band she likes.” He shrugged.

“I know the band,” Castiel said. “But not the song.”

“You recognize a band from a song you've never heard?” Jimmy said. “When did you become the Music Man?”

“I didn't,” Castiel said, turning back around “I...someone I met back in Maine was a musician.”

“Oh, well that's cool,” Jimmy said. “Least you made some new friends.” Castiel was quiet and Jimmy looked back at him. “More then friends?”

“We left on...bad terms,” Castiel said, glancing away. “I hurt him. But I didn't mean to.”

“Oh, Ell,” Jimmy said, setting the spatula down and facing Castiel. “I'm so sorry, what happened?”

Castiel sighed. “I messed up—again. I told him I was leaving to come here and he thought I was abandoning him.”

“But you're not,” Jimmy said. “Are you?”

“Of course not,” Castiel said, shaking his head emphatically “I would never. But, I left at a bad time, after I messed up so much last time we fought, and...well I just messed up. I didn't mean to, but I did, and I don't think I can fix it this time.”

“Not to be insensitive or anything, but I'm not sure you're the best judge over whether something can be fixed—or whether or not it's broken in the first place,” Jimmy said. “Find him. Explain things to him. If he listens, great!. If not, his loss. Okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel said. “I'll try.”

“Good,” Jimmy said with a sharp nod as he picked up his spatula. “Another problem fixed by Older Brother Jimmy. Any other self-esteem issue you're wrestling with while I'm here?”

Castiel couldn't help but smile. “I'm actually older then you are you know.”

“Ah, but you've been MIA for eight years. I think that earns me a time bump,”

Castiel laughed and Jimmy grinned, and Castiel almost felt like he had never left. The song lyrics drifted over him again.

“ _So brown eyes I hold you near, 'cause you’re the only song I want to hear. A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere. A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere_.”

“You know,” Jimmy said, drawing Castiel's attention back. “I had always wondered what happened to my trenchcoat. Thought it had gotten stolen or I'd just forgotten it somewhere.” He gave Castiel as sideways look and a smile. “Glad to see it's been in good hands.” Castiel just smiled back, unconsciously fingering the edges of his coat and continuing to watch Jimmy grill, a comfortable silence falling between them.

 

#

 

Castiel stayed with his brother and his family for almost two weeks. It was great, reconnecting with Jimmy, getting to know his nice and sister in-law. Claire had basically adopted him, telling him all about her favorite books and everything her friends did, and insisted on showing him all of the movies they had (well all the movies that she liked). “She missed her Uncle,” was all the explanation he got when he tried to ask Amelia what was going on. “We all did really.”

Castiel felt a surge of happiness at that, even though he told himself he didn't deserve it. Part of him never wanted to leave. Whenever they went out into town together, he always noticed For Sale signs out on the lawns. He could do it—Pontiac was still the snowy north, but he could handle it.

If twin telepathy did exist, Castiel was pretty sure Jimmy had it. Castiel was sitting in the living room one evening while Claire was out with friends and Amelia was making dinner. Jimmy came by and sat next to him, watching until Castiel turned. “What?”

“You're not planning on hiding out here forever are you?” Jimmy asked.

Castiel blinked in shock. “I, what?” Jimmy gave him a look and he looked down sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“Castiel, you can't keep running away from your problems,” Jimmy said.

“I'm not running,” Castiel insisted. “That's why I'm here. We were both running. I decided to stop, he decided to keep going. I'm not going to run away from what I did anymore.”

“Well that's actually really great to hear,” Jimmy said. “But...just because you've stopped running from what happened in California, doesn’t mean you've actually stopped running.”

Castiel looked up at him. His exact copy—only not so exact anymore. Pale scars stretching over his eye, down is cheek. Castiel clicked his jaw together. He had messed up, Jimmy paid the price. He had messed up again, but now Sam was paying.

He gave a sharp nod. “I'm leaving tomorrow. I have something I need to take care of.”

Jimmy smiled and patted his brother's knee. “Good. You're welcome back anytime you know.” Castiel nodded his understand and Jimmy got up. “Who know, maybe next time you can bring your music friend.”

Castiel smiled at the thought.

 

#

 

Castiel got back late Saturday night. He left Gabriel a message saying he'd gotten back in safe before heading to bed. The next day he spent at his apartment, unpacking and tidying up the untouched rooms. Gabriel called back around noon, but their conversation didn't last much longer than half and hour.

“So you're good now?” 

“Yes. Jimmy and I are fine,” Castiel said. “He...he had never been upset. I was the one who had a problem.”

“Told ya,” Gabriel said. “Glad you finally figured it all out.”

“Me too,” Castiel said.

Neither of them mentioned him.

Castiel set the phone back in it's cradle with a soft click, watching it for a long moment. His eyes flickered to the cork board on the wall behind it, the white scrap of paper hanging by a single thumbtack. He read over the string of numbers, long since memorized.

_You're gonna have to do it sometime._

He watched them a bit longer, then picked the phone back up and dialed it in.

It rang.

It rang again.

A click, Castiel felt his heart leap up.

“I'm sorry, but the number you have reached has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again.”

Castiel felt his heart sink back to his feet as he looked at the phone for a long moment. He hung up, setting the phone back down and walking into his bedroom.

_Too late._

 

#

 

Work was uneventful. Several welcome backs, three new cases, and a seemingly endless stream of coffee to combat only three hours of sleep the night before. Castiel walked back to his apartment in the afternoon with an ever-growing sense of nervousness. As the familiar corner grew closer and closer into view he found it harder and harder to take the next step. He stood at the corner for a full five minutes before forcing himself to move forward and confirm what the silence had already told him a block and a half ago.

The bench was empty.

Castiel walked over to it slowly, carefully placing his feet in the same spot he stood almost a year ago. He watched the empty space with a complicated mixture of frustration and acceptance. After what seemed like an eternity, mind still trying to catch notes that weren't there, would never be again, he turned away from the stone bench and continued on his way down the street.

 

#

 

The next day Castiel went out with Gabriel and the gang after work. They went to Candelstop, watched the band, laughed and drank. Castiel laughed a little too loud and drank a little too much, but no one said anything. It was only the next morning while he was hunched over the toilet that he thought maybe he was trying to run again, only this time right down the neck of a bottle.

 

#

 

On Wednesday Castiel found a new route to work.

 

#

 

“So?” Jimmy asked on one of their now nightly telephone talks.

“So what?” Castiel replied.

“So how did it go?” Jimmy asked. “With your music friend.”

“It didn't,” Castiel said. “He's gone.”

“Oh,” Jimmy said. “I'm sorry.”

Castiel shrugged, a useless gesture over the phone. “It's fine. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway. Too much baggage.”

“Well that's a rather pessimistic way of looking at things,” Jimmy said. He continued but Castiel was only half listening at that point. Instead he was staring at the stupid, goofy-grinned picture he forgot he had on the fridge. Yet couldn't muster of the energy to stand up and flip it around. 

 

#

 

He walked by the McDonalds once, on accident. He glanced inside, pausing by the window just long enough to see Samandriel and Gary working the counter. He thought he saw Samandriel glance up and catch his eye, but he turned away and walked off before he could have a chance to confirm it.

Now he was definitely running.

 

#

 

“I just don't understand,” he muttered into the heel of his palm. He was borderline hammered, tracing patterns in the condensation on the table. Everyone else was either passed out or talking to themselves in the corner, only he and Anasazi were still coherent. “I don't understand.”

Ananzi shrugged. “You were both running. You decided to stop, Sam decided to keep going.” It was the first time he had been mentioned by name in two weeks.

Castiel rolled his head to the side. “Is there a way I could catch up with him?”

“Do you want to?” Ananzi asked. “Do you want to start running again?”

“Yes” he wanted to say. “No” he told himself to say. “I don't know,” he actually muttered, letting his hand drop to lay flat on the table. “I just want him back.” 

 

#

 

He was probably overacting. He alternated between periods of hating the radio and being unable to shut it off. Gabriel started practically force-feeding him again and dragging him all over the city. Castiel complained just like before, but both of them knew there was no force behind it. Part of him was glad for the distraction, the rest just flat out didn't care. It almost frightened him, how dependent his life had become on someone else, without even him even realizing it at first. 

 

#

 

It had been raining practically all day. Castiel finally felt comfortable lowering his umbrella, shaking it out before rolling it and tucking it under his arm. It was then he hesitated. His new route added at least ten minutes to his trip, so with the downpour he had convinced himself to take his old route back after nearly a month. Now though, part of him wanted to turn back around instead of facing the blatant reminder. After a minutes deliberation, he sighed, steeled himself, then continued on his current path with a determined manor.

To his surprise, about a block and a half away from the corner—he heard music. His heart nearly stopped when he realized it wasn't only music, it was _that song_. That song he had been playing the first day. The random melody strummed by idle fingers and half-hummed lyrics that were heard but never understood. And then there was the voice. The oh-too-familiar voice that Castiel had resigned himself to only hearing again in his dreams.

“ _I heard there was a secrete chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord. But you don't really care for music, do you?_ ”

Castiel's breath caught in his throat as he quickened his step and headed towards the corner.

“ _Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth. The minor fall, the major lift. The baffled king composing, Hallelujah._ ”

He hesitated at the corner, leaning forwards just far enough to catch a glimpse of plaid shirt and brown hair. It was Sam, sitting on the stone bench, guitar in his lap and eyes closed as he sang.

“ _Hallelujah, hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah._ ”

There was a small crowed gathered around, constantly shifting as people tried to continue on their way down the street. Castiel took a chance and moved forward, skirting the fringes of the group along with a couple other new listeners.

“ _Your faith was strong, but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof. Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you. She tied you to a kitchen chair. She broke your throne, and she cut your hair. And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah._

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Hallelujah, Hallelujah._ ”

Sam happened to glance up and started slightly as he caught sight of Castiel, the same as ever in his stupid tan trenchcoat and black suit, milling about in the middle of the thinning crowd. The sky above them was darkening again.

“ _Well maybe I've been here before. I know this room, I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew you._ ”

Their eyes met and Castiel felt locked into place, held there by Sam's gaze as the musician's entire body language shifted, focusing straight onto him.

“ _I've seen your flag on the marble arch. Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah._

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Hallelujah, Hallelujah._ ”

Castiel walked closer, almost automatically. The crowd was basically gone as rain threatened to fall again overhead, but at the moment neither of them cared.

“ _There was a time when you let me know, what's really going on below. But now you never show it to me do ya? And remember when I moved in you? And the holy dark, was moving too, and every breath we drew was Hallelujah._ ” 

Castiel's eyes dropped and he flushed slightly, His skin felt strangely electrified. The logical part of him wondered if it was the impending storm, but the rest stayed locked on to Sam's every word and movement, which currently seemed a much more likely candidate.

“ _Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Hallelujah, Hallelujah._ ”

He glanced back up, but now Sam was looking away, trained on some far-off point. “ _Maybe there's a god above, and all I ever learned from love, was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you._ ” His eyes closed again, and while Castiel could feel the waves of emotions coming off of him, he was powerless to do anything but stand and let it wash over him.

“ _And it's not a cry you can hear at night, It's not somebody who's seen the light. It's cold and it's a broken Hallelujah._

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Hallelujah, Hallelujah._

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Hallelujah, Hallelujah._ ”

Sam drew the song to a close, head bowed. He let the strings vibrate for a few moments after the final note before placing a soft hand onto to silence them. For a moment, no one moved.

“Sam, I'm—”

“You were right.”

Castiel paused for a moment. “What?”

Sam looked up, meeting Castiel's gaze with a soft smile. “You were right,” he repeated. “I was acting irrationally and I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Castiel was already shaking his head. “Sam _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have hidden all those things from you. It was selfish of me and—”

“Cass, just stop for a second, okay?” Sam said, setting his guitar to the side and holding up a hand. “It's past now, it happened. Let's just..focus on something else right now, okay?”

Castiel hesitated, but nodded. He looked down at his hands, still clutching his briefcase ans umbrella. Sam looked down as well, neither of them knowing what do do with the space between them.

“I stopped because I heard something,” Castiel said. 

Sam looked up. “What?”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Months ago, that first night...you asked me why I stopped to listed to you. I said I didn't know, but I've been thinking and...I heard something.”

“What did you hear?” Sam asked.

“I'm not sure,” Castiel admitted. “But, I think I heard you.”

Sam was definitely confused. “Me?”

Castiel nodded. “It doesn't make sense, I barely understand it really, but I think, even without really getting music, I heard you. I heard you a recognized myself, so that was why I stopped.”

They were silent again. “That's...that's a nice thought,” Sam said, smiling for the first time since they had both been back. Their eyes met. Sam suddenly and looked away and cleared his throat. “So. How'd it go with your brother?” 

“Good, he never blamed me at all,” Castiel said.

“Didn't think he would. But I'm glad it went well,” Sam said.

Castiel nodded, hesitating before saying what came to mind. “You...your brother never blamed you either you know. He still doesn't.”

Sam almost bit back a sigh. “Yeah, I know,” he said, digging the toes of his boot into the sidewalk. “I still blame myself, but...I just need to accept that no one else does and get over it,” he said, mater-of-fact. He laughed, and shook his head. “Why is it, that all everybody keeps telling me is it's not my fault, but I just can't quiet believe them?”

“Because,” Castiel said. “'Forgiving yourself is the one thing a person cannot do'.”

Sam looked up at him. “Profound,” he said. “But isn't that from a movie?”

“My niece really likes Alex Cross,” Castiel admitted. “But I found it to be very true.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

“So where have you been all this time?” Castiel asked.

“I actually went and visited Dean and his girlfriend,” Sam said.

“Really, that's great,” Castiel said. “How did it go?”

“Really great actually,” Sam said. “Lisa's awesome and her kid Ben is hilarious. It was really fun, and me and Dean finally had that big talk he's been wanting. Half-way through he kept complaining about 'chick-flick moments', so I know we're good.”

“I'm glad,” Castiel said. “It seems like you finally found the family you were looking for. What made you come back?”

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched into a slight smirk. “Oh, I don't know,” he said, stretching lazily. “Just...felt like this place needed another visit. The atmosphere...the acoustics...” he glanced up at Castiel through his lashes. “The people.”

Castiel felt his heart flutter, just like it did the first time he said that. He stammered for a moment, trying to find the words. “I-I, Sam.”

“You, Cass,” Sam said, standing up and closing the distance so they were toe to toe with each other. “I came back for you. I'll always come back for you.” he laughed at the cheesiness of that last line and ran a hand through his hair. “Cass,” he said, voice taking on a serious tone. “I'm tired I'm tired of being a nomad. I'm tired of living in Motel rooms and hustling pool to make ends meet. I'm tired of letting my past control my future. I want a house. I want a family. I want _you—_ if you'll have me.”

Castiel looked up at Sam for a long moment before dropping his things to the ground and throwing his arms around his neck. “Yes, _yes_ , of course,” he said into the fabric of his shirt as Sam wrapped his arms tight around him. “Yes, Sam. _I_ came back for _you_.” 

Sam chuckled into Castiel's hair. “Well then I guess that's just one more thing we have in common,” he said with a smile. They swayed back and forth a few times, then Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, hey. Hate to ruin the mood, but I'm technically homeless right now, and with the rain coming I'd really like to make sure I can stay at your place.”

Castiel couldn't help the small bubble of laughter that came up. He pulled away, cupping the sides of Sam's face as he looked up at him. “Naturally,” he said, an affectionate smile on his face. “It's your home too after all.”

Sam smiled back as Castiel pulled him down for a kiss. Then, the clouds decided to break and the rain started, soft at first but quickly getting heavier.

Sam broke off abruptly. “Shit,” he said. “My guitar.”

And then they were in a mad scramble to get the guitar safely out of the rain and under cover, laughing the entire time as they ran back home.

 

_fin_ ~


End file.
